Living in the After: CristinaOwen MiniStories
by shli
Summary: A collection of short stories in no particular order revolving around Cristina and Owen. Feedback is very much encouraged. WARNING, rated M chapters: 13, 20, 23 and 24.
1. The Professor's Back

**Author's Note**: Couldn't help myself. I just had to write an Owen/Cristina story, especially since all the other wonderful authors out there are coming up with awesome storylines. Kudos to my fellow writers: you are all fantastic! (Plus, we're going to have to survive 2 weeks, so this will help with my sanity.) Unlike my other fanfiction, I'm not going to make this one a cohesive story, just a series of random stories as inspiration hits me (like the House/Cameron MiniStories) because the writers are doing a wonderful job with their storyline so far. So, onward and upward!

* * *

**The Professor's Back**

Someone's hand was on Cristina's ass, and it wasn't Owen's. Dr. Colin Marlow, the cardio god and former professor, was back at Seattle Grace with the same mission of winning Cristina back – and this time, there was no Burke to stand in his way.

"Well, aren't you glad to see me?" Colin asked, his hand rubbing her bottom in a suggestive and highly inappropriate manner.

Cristina, shaking off the shock of seeing him after so long, brought her hands up to his chest and gave him a shove back. She was never one for hugs; and even if she didn't have an aversion to hugs in general, she didn't want one from _him_.

Colin gave her a look of exasperation. "Don't tell me you're engaged again. You've really got to stop with all that nonsense." Colin stepped towards her as though to catch her arm or give her yet another hug. Cristina quickly stepped back, hitting the hard wall of someone's chest. She whipped her head back to see who she had run into. Her heart dropped – this was not good.

"Is there a problem here?" Owen asked, giving Colin a cold hard glare before looking down at Cristina. Cristina could see the tension in Owen's body as he attempted to restrain himself from causing a scene in the middle of the hospital.

"Uh, Dr. Hunt, I was just on my way to find you. Bailey needs a consult on her patient. She's in trauma one." With her back to Colin, she silently pleaded with Owen to go. He gave her a look that told her that they were going to discuss this later before heading towards the ER – but not without giving Colin another glare.

"Let me guess. That was the new man in your life? Really, Cristina, your taste is slipping," Colin remarked, the snobby tone emphasized with his British accent.

Cristina brushed off the remark about her personal life. There was no way she'd give him the satisfaction of acting defensive. "What are you doing here, anyways? I thought you said you were never coming back." Cristina folded her arms across her chest.

"Well, seeing as Seattle Grace seems to keep on losing its cardiothoracic surgeons, I'm here to perform a heterotropic heart transplant. And if you've gone back to being the Cristina I know, you won't be able to resist joining in on the surgery."

Just then, Cristina's beeper went off. It was a page from Owen. Sparing Colin the briefest of looks, she answered, "I'm in, but keep your hands to yourself." Then, she turned and walked away.

* * *

"So, who was that?" Owen asked after Cristina closed the door behind her to the on-call room. Owen was sitting on the lower bunk and Cristina took a seat next to him.

"He was my professor from Stanford. We had a thing. He's here to perform a heart transplant, that's all."

"I don't think that's all. The guy's hand was on your ass."

"Yeah, he has some boundary issues."

"Are you going to scrub in on the surgery?"

"Why? Are you going to ask me not to?"

"No. You should learn from the best. But if I see him touch you inappropriately again, I'm not going to just stand by and let it slide. I've only got so much self-control, Cristina."

Cristina looked down at his clenched fist and placed her hand gently on top of it. He immediately relaxed his hand and interlaced his fingers with hers. Cristina rested her head on his shoulder, and Owen turned his head so that he can kiss her on the top of her head.

* * *

"Well, that went perfectly, if I say so myself," Colin said as he washed his hands in the sink.

Cristina rolled her eyes at his arrogance. She couldn't believe that she used to be attracted to him – and men like him. Now, she was not about the name and the prestige, she was more about the man – and Owen was a good man who knew her and accepted her, flaws and all.

When Cristina didn't respond, Colin turned to her. "Well? Aren't you going to say anything?"

Cristina looked at him, her hands and forearms dripping with water. "You're a cardio god. But, I want a man and a partner, not a teacher. I'm still hardcore and I'm still going to be the best, but I'm never going to be the Cristina you once knew."

She dried her hands with the towel and walked out the swinging door. She pushed the button to the elevator and waited for the doors to open. After a few seconds, the doors opened. Cristina looked up to find the familiar face of her man, the better man – she had finally made the right choice.


	2. Burns

**Author's Note**: Just some short little bit of fun.

* * *

**Burns**

Cristina gingerly pulled the cloth of her scrubs away from her back. The rubbing of the material against her skin was causing her to wince. Meredith noticed Cristina's uncomfortable expression.

"What's wrong with you?"

"Nothing. There's something wrong with my back."

"Is it sore?"

"No. I think I've got a rash or something on my back." Cristina reached behind her to touch the spot tenderly. She quickly pulled back when the slight pressure of her fingertips caused some stinging.

Meredith placed the clipboard down and took Cristina to an empty medical supply closet, closing the door behind her.

"Okay. Strip and let me take a look."

Cristina carefully lifted her shirt and scrubs over her head. She turned her back towards Meredith to let her look.

"You've got this weird looking burn on your back. What were you doing?"

"Nothing. I must've accidentally brushed against something hot. Just get me something to make it less annoying."

Meredith gave Cristina a look, knowing that she wasn't getting the whole story. She finally gave in and looked around the room for some ointment to relieve the pain. Finding it, she applied some on her finger and tenderly rubbed it over the burns.

"You're going to have to tell me sooner or later, you know," Meredith said as she applied the ointment.

"It's nothing." Cristina put her shirt and scrubs back on and took the little bottle of ointment from Meredith's hand, slipping it into her pocket, and then walked back outside.

* * *

"Dr. Hunt, here are the patient's biopsy results," Meredith said, handing over the file. As Owen reached over to grab the file from her hand, Meredith noticed a very peculiar and familiar-looking burn on his arm. "Um, Dr. Hunt, is your arm okay?"

"What?" Owen asked, confused. He looked down at where Meredith was looking and pulled down his sleeve. "Yeah, it's fine. Just accidentally touched something hot. Thank you for the results. Go do your charts," he said, dismissing her and focusing on the paper, and missed the slight raise of Meredith's eyebrow. She quickly exited the room and set about looking for Cristina – that girl had some explaining to do.

* * *

Meredith found Cristina in the basement on the cot that they used to hang out on as interns. She had a bag of chips in her lap and a medical book in her hand. Meredith stopped in front of her with her hands on her hips. Cristina slowly looked up from her book.

"Yes?"

"I can't believe you are messing around with Major Owen Hunt and you didn't tell me."

Cristina dropped her book. "What? I have no idea what you're talking about."

"You are such a liar. He's got the same burns as you do. What were you doing? Actually, scratch that. I can guess what you were doing. Where were you doing it?"

Cristina fought to come up with some plausible denial but knew that it was no use. You couldn't lie to your person forever.

"The boiler room…but you better never tell anyone. Not even McDreamy. Or else I'm going to cut off all his hair and he won't be McDreamy any longer."

"Uh huh, whatever… Oh my god. I can't believe it. The boiler room… You really are a dirty, dirty girl. So, how was it?" Meredith plopped next to Cristina onto the bed, awaiting all the juicy details.

"I didn't talk about my sex life before, and I'm not about to now. I'll just say this: it was hot." Meredith and Cristina shared a smile. "Anyways," Cristina continued, "I better go check up on my patient." Cristina grabbed her book and left Meredith on the bed. Meredith reached over to grab the bag of chips Cristina had left behind and munched thoughtfully, wondering if Derek would be up to trying out new parts of the hospital.


	3. Saying 'Yes'

**Author's Note**: Please leave some feedback! It's very much appreciated. :)

* * *

**Saying 'Yes'**

"Yes."

Owen quietly let out the breath that he'd been holding. She had given him another chance – even though he was damaged goods, even though he had big problems, even though he had shown up on their first date late and drunk. Owen's lips curled upwards at the corners in a smile. If he were the PDA type, he would wrap her in his arms and show her just how grateful he was for another chance to show her just how right they were for each other. But he wasn't – and she wasn't, so he placed his hand next to hers, simply letting their hands touch as they sat there for a moment side by side.

* * *

Owen and Cristina lay in their relatively new king-sized bed, her head resting on his arm. He idly played with her hair, twirling the curly black tendrils with his fingers and he looked up at the ceiling. Little glowing dots that resembled stars winked back at him. Ever since their second "first" date, they had a newfound appreciation of cloudless nights. So, one day, when Cristina had gone to work earlier, he'd gone out and bought those childish glow-in-the-dark stars and stuck them on the ceiling over their bed so that she would always think of him before going to bed, even when he was on call at the hospital and she had to sleep alone. He had known that she would think it was slightly sappy, but she brought out the romantic side of him. He didn't care if she thought he was a dork. He just loved making her happy.

"You okay?" Cristina asked, tracing random patterns on his chest. Although the nightmares had, for the most part, stopped, she still worried about him.

"I'm fine. I was just thinking."

"Thinking about what?"

"You and me."

Cristina's fingers stopped their movements. She rolled to her side to face him. "What about you and me?"

Owen left his hand in her hair as he turned to look at her, their faces mere inches away from each other. "I think it's time we made it official."

"Um, I think we are pretty official. I mean, we're living together now. What more do you want?"

"I want you to be my partner, my lover, and my best friend for the rest of my life. When you introduce me to someone, I don't want to simply be 'Dr. Hunt' but your husband as well. I want to grow old with you and have daughters that have your hair or my nose... No fancy wedding. Just you, me, the justice of the peace, and Meredith. What do you say?"

Cristina looked at him, at this man who had accepted her for who she was and had never forced her to change. She had been his and he had been hers from the moment they'd met – it had taken them a while to figure that out. She placed her palm on his cheek, feeling the stubble there, and gazed into those clear blue eyes. He looked at her so earnestly, so full of love and hope – yes, hope – that she could only think of one word.

"Yes."

* * *

"Dr. Grey, have you seen Cristina?" Owen asked, approaching Meredith with a look of concern on his face. He had been paging her for a while now – having promised to let her know should an interesting case show up in his ER – and it wasn't like Cristina to miss out on such an opportunity. "I can't seem to find her anywhere."

Meredith refused to look him in the eye. She had promised Cristina that she wouldn't tell since Cristina wanted to be the one to tell him. But first, she had to be sure, which was why Meredith was now faced with the problem of having to come up with a suitable lie to tell Owen.

"Um, I think she may be in dermatology. I'll go look for you," Meredith quickly left before Owen could respond. Owen watched her run away like a person with something to hide. He knew that there were some things that those two kept to themselves, but Owen had a nagging suspicion that this "thing" involved him and he was going to get to the bottom of it.

Meredith went upstairs to the OB/GYN department and waited for Cristina's appointment to end. She didn't have to wait long. Cristina walked into the lobby and saw Meredith sitting there waiting.

"Everything is fine and in working order. I can tell Owen now."

Meredith sighed in relief. Ever since Cristina had told her that she thought she was pregnant, she had been worried that Cristina would have another miscarriage. "Good. First, I'm going to hug you. And then, you're going to go find your husband and tell him that you're pregnant because I'm a terrible liar." With that, she wrapped her arms around Cristina for a brief moment, and then they both walked out the door.

Cristina was feeling nervous, which was stupid because he was her husband and he got her in this condition so he was just going to have to deal with it. Granted, newlyweds weren't really supposed to be thinking about babies just yet, but apparently contraceptives just didn't work for her. She was surprised that she had been able to keep her pregnancy hidden from him for as long as she had, considering the fact that she had started getting morning sickness a few days ago. But then, there was a bug going around the hospital, so Owen probably thought that she had caught it.

Owen found his wife pacing in the locker room, lost in thought. With her hair tied up in a bun, he could see part of the chain he had given her to put her wedding band on, since she was not one to wear rings. He had a matching chain with his wedding band around his neck as well, since he hated having to constantly remove it before performing surgery.

Not wanting to startle her, he slowly approached her and quietly called out her name. She stopped and looked up. "I was just about to go look for you. I just had to get something from my locker first."

"Cristina, where have you been? I've been paging you all morning. There's a case that came in that I thought you'd like, but Karev took it."

"Oh, um, that's okay. Next time."

Owen gave her an incredulous look. He placed the back of his hand across her forehead. "Are you feeling alright?"

"I'm fine. It's just…" A sudden wave of nausea hit her at that moment. Her hand quickly went up to cover her mouth and she pushed past him to run into the bathroom. Owen followed her, filled with concern, and ignored the "women" sign on the door. Cristina was kneeling in front of a toilet puking. Owen quickly went over to the stall and brushed the hair back from her face with one hand and caressed her back with the other. Finally, the puking stopped. Owen lifted her to her feet and flushed the toilet with his foot. He led her to the sink so that she could wash her face. Leaving for just a moment to grab her toiletry bag from her locker, he handed Cristina her toothbrush and toothpaste so that she could brush her teeth. Owen leaned against the wall, waiting for her to finish before he started questioning her.

"This isn't the bug that's going around the hospital, is it?"

"No, it's not." Cristina handed him the toothbrush and toothpaste, and he put in back into the bag. He then grabbed some paper towels and carefully wiped the leftover toothpaste and moisture off her lips.

"So, where were you earlier?"

"I was on the third floor getting checked out."

"The third floor? That's optometry, audiology, and gynecology… Wait, Cristina… Are you pregnant?"

Cristina hesitated, gauging his mood. Owen had a look of shock on his face, which was expected, but he didn't look horrified or angry. That was a good sign.

"Yes. I'm pregnant. I just had to make sure everything was okay first. And I'm fine, and the baby's fine."

"How far along are you?" Owen was still a bit shell-shocked from the news.

"About a month… Are you happy…about this?" Cristina looked at him, still not completely able to interpret what he was feeling.

Her toiletry bag that was in his hand dropped to floor. Within seconds, he picked her up in a hug, careful not to squeeze too hard, and buried his face in her neck. Cristina laughed with joy as Owen repeated into her hair, "Yes, yes, and yes."


	4. Elevator Interlude

**Author's Note**: Inspired by something mentioned on the Yang-Hunt thread. I would post on there, but the site hates me and won't let me. For those of you who participate in that thread, you guys are all awesome. :D Anyways, hope you are all enjoying this and that this will help with the Cristina/Owen withdrawal. And as always, please review.

* * *

**Elevator Interlude**

Owen impatiently waited for the doors to the elevator open. A rather timid-looking intern stood next to him, trying to pretend that he was invisible so as to not upset an attending. Normally, Owen would at least make an attempt to appear somewhat friendly so that the intern wouldn't be so frightened, but Cristina had paged him and he badly wanted to see her.

That morning in bed, Owen had placed his hand on Cristina's slight baby bump – still unnoticeable enough that there no pregnancy rumors circulating around just yet – and waited for it to kick. But they had been running really late, and Owen had been needed for an urgent trauma surgery, so he hadn't been able to wait long enough to have felt any movement. He had made Cristina promise, however, to page him should the baby start getting active while they were at the hospital; and she had paged him a minute ago – which was why he was now getting very frustrated at how slow the elevators were.

Finally, the doors opened. As luck would have it, Cristina was waiting inside by herself. She gave him a small smile, which instantly soothed all the frustration that had been building up from having to wait. He walked in and quickly turned around to stop the intern from following.

"Grab the next one." The words came out in an unintentional growl, but Owen was too preoccupied with getting some privacy with his wife to care about scaring the intern. The intern's eyes widened like a deer caught in the headlights, and he gave a slight nod before stepping back.

Cristina looked at Owen with approval, always having been a supporter of torturing interns. Before he joined Cristina in the back of the elevator, Owen went over to the panel of buttons and pulled the emergency stop button.

"What are you doing?" Cristina asked with laughter in her tone.

"I didn't get to feel the baby kick this morning, and it's not like we can get any privacy anywhere else." Owen walked over to Cristina and pushed up her shirt to reveal her belly. She was barely showing, but Owen could feel the extra curve of Cristina's stomach and his heart filled with emotion. He knelt down and gently placed his hand on her belly, causing Cristina to jolt a little in response to the feel of his slightly colder skin. Bringing his face close to her belly, he whispered words of encouragement to their growing son or daughter.

"Come on. Kick for Daddy," he murmured, his warm breath blowing across Cristina's skin. Cristina placed one hand over his and another in his hair. She stroked his hair as he continued talking. Apparently, the baby was listening, and Owen felt a sudden movement against his palm. He chuckled in response, happy to have finally felt his child move. Knowing that he couldn't commandeer a hospital elevator for too long, he gave Cristina's belly one last kiss and whispered, "Good job," before pulling her shirt back down and getting back onto his feet.

He bent his head down to give Cristina a kiss on the lips as well before pushing the button to make the elevator start moving once more.


	5. Exes and Ohs

**Author's Note**: Warning! Potential spoilers for upcoming episodes relating to Owen's past. Please don't read if you don't like spoilers. Otherwise, feedback is encouraged. 9 more days till Grey's Anatomy. Hang in there!

* * *

**Exes and Ohs**

"Owen? Is that you?"

Owen looked up from the patient's charts at the feminine voice softly and hesitantly calling his name. Almost immediately, his heart plummeted into his stomach. Although he had known there was a chance that he'd run into her because her father was a patient here, he had sincerely hoped that he wouldn't.

"Beth," he said softly. Beth slowly walked up to him, hugging a coffee cup tightly to her chest as though it were a lifeline. He didn't know how to greet her. He hadn't spoken to her in months, and he hadn't seen for even longer.

Beth stood a good distance away from him, not feeling comfortable enough to reach over and embrace him as she used to when they were together. On the one hand, she was extremely happy to see him. Even though she tried not to, she still cared about him. How do you suddenly stop caring about someone you've known since you were in high school? But on the other hand, she was so angry – angry that he had left her on her own without so much as an explanation. And she deserved an explanation.

"Why didn't you tell me you father was sick?" Owen asked gently, knowing that he had to tread carefully with her. She had always been fragile, physically and emotionally; and with her father so sick, she was extremely vulnerable.

"I didn't know. I am just as surprised as you are. He seemed fine the last time I saw him. Then, out of nowhere, I get this phone call to come to the hospital. Why didn't you tell me that you were working here?"

"I didn't want to make things more difficult. I'm sorry, Beth. I should've been there for you." Owen was feeling all shades of guilt. When he had made a clean break, he thought that he was doing what was best for her. The war had changed him in ways that she could never understand. He was no longer the person she'd known. She was still sweet and innocent, but he was no longer optimistic and undamaged. He could see that she was fighting hard not to cry in front of him, but it was a losing battle. Finally, the weight of having kept a constant vigil at her father's bed and seeing his frail body connected to tubes crashed down on her, and a sob escaped. Instinctively, she buried her face in Owen's chest and wrapped her arms around him, not caring that the coffee cup fell to the floor and what little remained splashed onto her shoes. Owen awkwardly embraced her, wanting to comfort her as the man he once was to her but feeling like a stranger.

Cristina walked in the hallway, on her way to check up on a patient, and saw the embracing twosome in the doorway of the patient's room. She had had her share of hugging-prone patients' relatives, but that was mostly due to hearing good news. And her patient wasn't getting better any time soon, so it was definitely not good news. From the looks of it, Owen obviously knew the patient and the mysterious blonde woman who was clinging to him, which didn't sit well with Cristina. Wanting to beat a hasty retreat before being spotted, she quickly stopped in her tracks and looked for somewhere to hide from his line of sight. She wasn't fast enough. Over Beth's head, Owen caught a glimpse of Cristina ducking into a supply closet. Owen moved his hands to Beth's shoulders and lightly held her away from his chest so that he could look down at her. Beth's tear-ridden eyes gazed back at him.

"Beth, why don't you sit by your father's side for a while? I'll go find his doctor and find out what's going on, okay?"

Beth gave him a hiccupping nod and went to sit by her father. Owen stayed long enough to make sure she was okay before heading for the supply closet door.

Cristina was sitting on the floor, her head in her hands, trying to decide what to do when Owen walked in. Cristina quickly got up and turned her back to him. "Oh, um, I was just here to get some gauze and bandages. I'll be out of your way in just a second."

"Cristina," he said softly, gently turning her around to face him.

"Look, you don't have to say anything. You have a history with the patient and his family. I get it. I completely get it."

"Cristina," he said again. "I want to explain." Cristina refused to meet his gaze, choosing instead to focus on his chest. "I've known Beth and her father since I was in high school. We were friends. Then, one day, things evolved into something more and we got engaged right before I went into the military. She got me through a lot of hard times while I was in Iraq, but I realized that proposing to her had been a mistake. She deserved someone who not only loved her but was _in _love with her. So, I broke things off with her before my last tour. And then, I ended up getting in a car accident and met someone who I knew I could love…someone I've fallen in love with. I was always going to come back to you, Cristina." Owen cupped Cristina's face as he said these last few words, forcing her to see the sincerity in his eyes. He didn't always have the right words, but he knew that she could always see the truth in his eyes.

Cristina's brown eyes met his blue ones, and she felt as if they were back on the vent – filled with the sense that she belonged with this man, this man who made her feel things that she had never felt before and believe in a love that she had never dared to even hope for. Overwhelmed with emotions, the only word Cristina could muster out was, "Oh."


	6. Don't Let Go

**Author's Note**: Can I just say that I loved "Beat Your Heart Out"? It was the most romantic episode we've ever seen on this show. And the last scene where he's sleeping on top of her is probably the best scene I could've asked for. Here is one possible way the missing scene from the exam room (where Owen had the panic attack) to the on call room (where Owen is sleeping with his arm around Cristina) could have happened. And as always, please review!  


* * *

**Don't Let Go**

Cristina's arms were starting to feel the strain of holding Owen so tightly, but she didn't let go. If she could hold a retractor for hours on end, she could most definitely hold onto this man. His wide shoulders made it harder for her to hang on, especially compared to Dr. Dixon's smaller frame. Owen's breathing was still labored, but he had stopped resisting her now. His hands still clung to her arms, but now his grip was looser. She rested her cheek on his back, patiently waiting for his panic attack to subside.

After a few more minutes, Cristina could feel the rhythm of his breathing return to normal. Owen's hands slowly fell to his sides as the tension in his muscles gradually eased up. Cristina was about to let go of him, thinking that he was okay, but Owen quickly said, "Not yet" when he felt her arms start to move away. He turned within her the circle of her arms to face her, not able to look her in the eye, and rested his chin on top of her head with his eyes closed. He placed his own arms around her waist and held her close, not wanting to leave the haven of her embrace.

Knowing that they couldn't stay like this in an exam forever without being interrupted, Owen finally got the courage to look at Cristina. Cristina – the one who had said yes even when he had given her ample reason to say no; the one who made him feel hopeful even after having witnessed war; the one who had seen him at his most vulnerable and didn't run away.

Cristina looked up at him, her eyes filled with concern and not a hint of judgment. "I'm not ready to go out there just yet," Owen told her. Cristina brought her hand to his cheek, her fingers getting slightly wet from his tears as she caressed his face, and simply replied, "Okay." She gently grabbed his hand and led him towards the door. She paused there a moment, looking out to see if there was anyone there. The last thing Owen needed was for someone to see him like this and gossip about it. Thankfully, no one was around, so Cristina quickly took him to the nearby on-call room where she had already hung up her lab coat after finding out that they were both going to be on call that night.

Owen went in first, still holding onto her hand, and waited as Cristina closed the door behind them. Cristina took her free hand and started taking off his lab coat. Owen let go of her hand only at the last moment to get the second sleeve off but quickly reclaimed her fingers with his own. Cristina hung up his lab coat on the coat rack and walked him over to the bed. Owen sat down at the edge of the bed, and Cristina stood in front of him. She ran her fingers through his hair in a soothing manner.

"Go to sleep. I can stay here with you, if you'd like," Cristina said softly.

Owen nodded. He scooted further onto the bed and lay down on top of the covers. Cristina went over to the coat rack to grab Ellis Grey's diary and started to sit on the lower bunk bed that was on the opposite side of the room.

"No. Next to me, please." Cristina slightly started at the sound of his voice, thinking that he had already begun to drift off to sleep. Without a word, she went over to his bed and propped up a pillow against the wall so that she could sit up and read the diary while he slept beside her. The moment she settled into a comfortable position, Owen laid his head on her chest, using her as a pillow and wrapped his arm around her. He knew that sleeping together like this was probably too soon at this stage of their relationship, but he desperately needed to be close to her. The gentle rise and fall of her chest and the muted sound of her heart beating gave him a sense of calm that he couldn't resist. And more than that, he just didn't ever want to let her go.

Cristina smiled. She couldn't put into words just how right it felt being here with him like this. If he had been anyone else, she would have ended things a long time ago. But with Owen, she felt inexplicably drawn to him and the way he made her feel. Her free hand briefly went to the back of her neck before she let it rest on top of Owen's. With a quick glance at Owen's sleeping form to check to make sure he was okay, she opened Ellis' diary and started reading.


	7. The Valentine Game

**Author's Note**: Happy Valentine's Day!

* * *

**The Valentine Game**

It started with a note in her locker. There was nothing remotely special about the card itself. It was a plain, white 5 by 3 inch index card. She would have missed it had it not been taped to the collar of her lab coat. On it was a message scribbled in Owen's familiar handwriting: _Wait. Just wait. Anything can happen…_

Cristina stared at the card, completely confused. Determined to get some answers, Cristina quickly donned the lab coat and went looking for Owen. It didn't take her long. She found him standing at the closest nurse's station looking over some charts. Even though he didn't look up as she approached, Cristina knew that he had sensed her presence. He seemed to always know when she was nearby.

Without preamble, Cristina placed the index card on top of the page he was looking at. "What's this about?"

"I thought we could have a scavenger hunt. I know you aren't one for flowers and candy, so I thought you'd appreciate a game more, especially one with a prize." When Cristina looked back at him with an incredulous look on her face, he continued. "Admit it, you're intrigued."

Cristina shook her head and scoffed. "Someone's been hanging around Izzie too much. Are you two suddenly arts and craft buddies now? What happened to keeping it low-key? I thought we were just going to order in and watch a movie or something."

"I know, but it's our first Valentine's Day. Just humor me. It's already set up anyways, so you might as well participate."

Unable to resist Owen's charms and her own curiosity, Cristina reluctantly gave in. She could see that this game was really important to him for reasons she couldn't understand. "Fine. What am I supposed to do?"

"There are fourteen cards in total. On each card is a clue. All you have to do is find the place or person it refers to. And hang onto the cards. You better have them all when you cross the finish line. You've got until we get off work."

"Fine. See you then." Cristina grabbed the first index card and went off to the vent room for the next clue. Owen watched her walk away, a smile at his lips.

***

The second clue was taped to the door of the vent room. It had one word: _Izzie_. Cristina grabbed the card off the door and went back upstairs to find Izzie in the clinic. She couldn't believe that Owen had recruited her friends into this. As long as he didn't give one to Alex, she wouldn't kill him. No way was she going to let Evil Spawn see her doing a Valentine's Day scavenger hunt.

***

Izzie was waiting for Cristina in the clinic, a huge grin on her face. Cristina could see her pearly whites from across the room. She rolled her eyes as she approached the bubbly blonde. With a hand extended out, she simply said, "Just give it to me." Izzie was bursting at the seams with excitement, having always been one for romantic gestures. Even though she didn't really know the endgame, she was excited all the same. She loved games. She took out the next clue from her pocket and handed it to Cristina without a word, smiling from ear to ear after having read what was on the card. As Cristina left, she let out a short burst of claps, looking very much like a trained seal.

***

The third clue said, _Lacey, black lingerie_. No wonder Izzie had been looking at her like that. Owen just had to have given Izzie that clue. Cristina smiled at the memory of when she had surprised Owen with that little number while at work. She had purposely leaned over a counter, pretending to grab a slightly out-of-reach pencil, for him to glimpse the hint of black lace peeking out from her scrubs as he walked past her. He had stopped suddenly in his tracks, zoning in on her backside, and promptly grabbed her arm and went to the nearest on-call room to fully appreciate the view – among other things. Cristina walked into the on-call room in question and found an index card on the pillow. This one said, _Lexie_. _Great_, Cristina thought to herself, _he's recruited my interns for this_. And off she went to the ER, where she had left her interns to do scut work and sutures.

***

Lexie hated keeping secrets, so she didn't ask any questions when Dr. Hunt had told her to hang onto a note card and wait for Cristina to retrieve it. Giving Cristina a note card, she could handle. When she had to stay quiet over Derek's proposal and her relationship with Mark, it was torture. As she cleaned the cut on the patient's hand, she saw Cristina approach from corner of her eye. With her free hand, she took out the card and extended it towards Cristina. She didn't say a word, not wanting to give Cristina any reason to yell at her. The patient looked at them, curious at what was going on, but didn't dare to upon seeing the annoyed look on Cristina's face. When Cristina was a safe distance away, he turned to Lexie and asked, "What did the card say?"

"'Yesterday.'"

"That's it? What does that mean?"

"I have no idea."

***

Cristina knew. Yesterday, they had gotten a case that had been tough on her. Their patient was a Korean man in his late thirties who had been in a car crash with his young daughter. Luckily, the daughter only had a few minor scratches but was otherwise unharmed. Seeing the two of them had dredged up unwanted memories of when her father had passed away: a single father with his daughter – the parallels were painfully obvious. Even though technically, Cristina had had her mother as well, she had mostly lived with her father until he died.

The young girl, Grace, had clung to Cristina, feeling an instant connection to her. So, for once in her life, Cristina had sat out of the surgery in order to stay by Grace's side while Owen operated on her father and waited for her aunt to fly in from the east coast. The surgery had been successful, and a full recovery was expected. Once Owen finished telling Grace that her father was going to be okay, the little girl threw her arms around him and thanked him, calling him her hero and telling him that she was going to rename her pet hamster Owen in his honor.

Cristina approached Grace's father's room. She could hear Grace's high-pitched chatter as she talked to her dad about how she was going to be a doctor. The minute Grace saw Cristina, she grabbed her hand and dragged her to her father's bedside.

"This is her, daddy. This is Dr. Cristina Yang," Grace said.

"Thank you for watching my daughter, Dr. Yang. I've heard a lot about you."

"It was my pleasure. How are you feeling?"

"Better. Please thank Dr. Hunt again for me, if you see him."

"I will."

Grace, remembering the card that Owen had given her, went to the table that she had been coloring at and removed the card from under her crayons. She had gotten bored and had decorated the card with hearts and flowers in honor of Valentine's Day. Plus, he had said she could.

"Here," she said, "Dr. Owen told me to give you this. Do you like it? I made it extra pretty."

"It's great. Thank you. I'll see you tomorrow, okay?"

"Okay. Bye, Cristina."

***

At the center of the crayon drawings was one word: _O'Malley_. Cristina found George in the cafeteria. He wasn't alone. He was with the entire gang. She sat down next to Meredith and stole the apple off her tray.

"Hand it over," she said as she took a bite.

George handed the card over. It said, _Under the table._ She looked under the table and removed the card that was taped there. _Meet up with your friends_.

"Apparently, I finally get to rest. This silly game of Owen's is making me go all over the hospital."

"I think it's cute," Izzie said, taking a sip of her coffee. "I wish I had a guy who'd do something like this." She gave Alex a pointed look.

"You're the arts and craft one. Hey, I'm making dinner. Give me some credit, here." Izzie smiled and patted his hand.

"Okay, who has cards to give me? You might as well just give them all to me now and save me the trip," Cristina said. Knowing Owen, even Alex would have a card. But she was wrong, he had two. Alex fished the cards from his pocket and handed it to her. The first one said, _Always knew you were a cheater._ Cristina scoffed. He knew her too well. Of course she wouldn't pass up the opportunity to take a shortcut. The second one said, _Rest for a minute._

Meredith also had a card. This one said, _Raspberry water_.

"Well, I'd love to sit here and chat some more. But the dermatology department awaits me." Cristina got out of her chair and left her group of friends.

***

Dr. Daisy Pepman greeted her with a cup of raspberry water and two note cards. On them were: _You're almost done _and _Major McHottie_. Cristina had to laugh at that one. She had accidentally slipped and referred to Derek as "McDreamy" once, which had him raising an eyebrow. She finally explained to him about the "Mc" naming system, causing Owen to ask what his name was. To this day, he had yet to let that one go.

***

Cristina changed out of her scrubs and into her normal street clothes. She grabbed her bag and headed towards the main hospital doors, where she knew Owen awaited her.

"Okay, Major McHottie, where's my prize?"

Owen laughed as he grabbed her hand and put it on his arm as they walked out into the cold together. "We're going on a ride first. Plus, you've still got one clue left."

Cristina sighed. "What's the last clue?"

"I'll give it to you when we get there."

***

The entire car ride, Cristina bugged Owen about telling her where they were going and what the note cards were about. He fended her off, telling her to just wait. She was one impatient woman. Normally, he would have given in, but today, he wanted things to be perfect and to go as planned – a rare occurrence in their lives. He pulled into an empty parking space. Cristina barely registered the fact that they reached their destination, having been successfully distracted by Owen's absolute refusal to give anything up. When she finally realized that they had stopped, she peered outside the window to figure out where they were.

"I see a lighthouse. Are we at the West Point lighthouse? Isn't this where you wanted to take me for our first date?"

"Yes. Come on."

They got out the car and made their way towards the lighthouse. Apparently, Owen had prearranged everything because one of the staff members greeted him by name and opened the door for the two of them. The woman gave him a wink before leaving the two of them alone. Cristina was instantly suspicious but didn't get a chance to dwell on it as Owen gently guided her towards the staircase. When they got to the top, Owen finally spoke. Cristina noticed that he was slightly nervous, but she couldn't figure out why.

"Do you have all the cards on you?"

"Yes." Cristina reached into the pocket of her leather jacket and extracted thirteen cards.

"Here's the last one."

Cristina took the card from his hand and read it. _Every first letter, in order, of each card._ Cristina arranged the cards in numerical order and proceeded to read out the first letter of each card.

"W. I. L. L. Y. O. U. M. A. R. R. Y. M. E. Will… you… marry…" Cristina couldn't finish the sentence. Her heart started pounding. She had not been expecting this. _Marry_. She couldn't get past that word. The cards fell from her hands as she looked up into Owen's piercing blue eyes.

Owen placed a hand on either side of her and pulled her towards him, until they were mere inches apart. Gazing down at her, he brought one hand up to cup her face.

"Cristina Yang. Will you marry me?"

And as she had on the day he'd asked her for another chance, Cristina gave him the only answer she could. "Yes."


	8. Making Plans

**Author's Note**: A filler scene for "An Honest Mistake" around the "40 years" speech and what happens a little after. Hope you like it! As always, please leave some feedback.

* * *

**Making Plans**

Owen caught Cristina alone in the residents' locker room as she was getting ready to head out. He had helped get Sloan to Callie to check for any broken bones before coming to find Cristina. He would have never thought that he'd end up being something of a friend to either him _or_ Derek after the rocky start they'd had. But he was especially surprised about Sloan – Sloan, the man who had somewhat come off as a narcissistic and shallow ladies' man on Owen's first day of work. It also didn't help with Owen's impression of him when Sloan decided to hit on Cristina – in front of him. While Cristina hadn't realized Sloan's intentions at the time, Owen certainly had. And despite his resolve to remain professional towards Cristina, Owen hadn't been able to keep himself from getting angry or jealous over Sloan's advances – which was why he had ultimately told her to scrub out. No way would he have been able to stomach the sight of _that_.

Cristina was in the process of putting on her leather jacket and was having some issues getting her other arm into the sleeve as Owen walked in. He silently made his way across the room to stand behind her, taking the errant sleeve, and holding it so that she could put her arm into the hole.

Cristina didn't need to look behind her to know who it was. She could smell the familiar and subtle scent of his aftershave, a scent she had come very accustomed to. Cristina's long, wavy hair got stuck inside the coat, so Owen gathered the thick tresses in his hands and gently eased them out. He couldn't resist breathing in the scent of her perfume and bringing his face close to the back of her neck as he did so. Cristina stood very still, the back of her neck tingling in anticipation.

Using one hand to keep her hair to one side and the other to lower the collar of her jacket, Owen took advantage of the bare skin he'd exposed by pressing his lips to the curve of her neck. Cristina let out an involuntary gasp upon feeling the slightly rough texture of his beard juxtaposed against the softness of his lips on her skin. Knowing that they wouldn't alone for long and that he still had to get back to the ER, Owen reluctantly let her go and took a small step back – but not before taking in one last whiff of her fragrance.

"We're still on for drinks at Joe's, right?" he said, watching as Cristina took her bag off the hook inside the locker and turn around to face him.

Cristina, still a bit shaken from the kiss he'd placed on her neck, barely managed out a coherent "Yes."

Owen gave a tiny smile at seeing her flustered. "I'll meet you there in a bit," he said, then headed back out to finish the rest of his shift.

***

When Owen walked into Joe's about half an hour later, his eyes immediately scanned the room for Cristina. He found her sitting by herself at a small table, nursing a drink and looking deep in thought as her fingers played with empty peanut shells.

Cristina was mulling over Dr. Campbell's last words to her in the observation deck: "What would you have?" Indeed, what _would_ Cristina have when she got too old for performing surgery? The idea of not being able to cut was disheartening – she was a surgeon, first and foremost. It was what Mama Burke had recognized and what Burke had tried to change but wasn't able to. So, what would she have without her profession? Once, the answer would have been Burke. But, he had left her and had taught her the lesson that when it comes to one's personal life, it's best not to make plans for the future in order to save oneself from a lot of heart break. And as such, Cristina refused to let herself entertain any foolish hopes of the answer to Dr. Campbell's question being Owen.

Cristina's train of thought was interrupted as Owen approached her side and greeted her. "You want another one?" Owen asked, nodding his head towards her empty glass, not even needing to ask what it was. Cristina nodded.

Cristina placed her hand on the side of her face and rested her head within her palm as she watched Owen go to the bar to get their drinks. Her eyes tracked him as he returned to the table soon thereafter with both their drinks in hand. As Owen got to his seat and placed her drink in front of her, Cristina shifted her hand to under her chin and looked at Owen. Owen sat down in the seat right next to her, positioning his body so that he was facing her.

"Today, you were – you were a teacher to someone who needed to learn, but you were also a bully to someone who needed compassion. You were… both."

Cristina's hand dropped and she sat up in a mildly indignant manner. "Um, well… I wasn't a bully." Owen drew his head back with an incredulous look on his face. "And… I was right."

"Right," he repeated with a laugh. Cristina brought her drink to her lips, letting a quick "uh huh" of agreement before taking a sip. "You're a lot like her: stubborn, opinionated, smart." At the last remark, Cristina gave him a cocky look of agreement. He continued, "Forty years from now, I'm going to have to pry that scalpel out of your hand, too."

Cristina lowered her glass and replied, "From my cold, dead hands."

Owen laughed at the fact that his comment had gone over her head – as usual. She was terrible at reading between the lines whenever he tried to show her how he felt about her. It seemed to him that he was always having to clarify things for her or take a more direct approach.

Owen leaned in closer to Cristina, his arm right next to her elbow, cognizant of the fact that their proximity would most likely raise suspicions in the hospital staff around them. He let out a nervous laugh, unsure of how Cristina would react but needing to let her know where he stood.

"You're missing the point," he said. Cristina brought her hand back up to her chin and looked at him, confused. He paused, avoiding eye contact for a brief moment, then returned his gaze to her eyes. "I want to be around forty years from now." He gave her a sincere smile, waiting for her to react.

Cristina's looked at him, surprised at his words. Here they were, having yet to even go out on their first date or move beyond first base, and he was already making plans: plans for the distant future that included her. She knew that she should probably be running in the opposite direction since dark and twisty people didn't do well with declarations of everlasting love – especially declarations coming from someone who they've only known for a few months. And indeed, she was slightly freaking out – who wouldn't in her situation? – but she overwhelmingly more hopeful and secretly ecstatic.

Owen was starting to get worried over her silence. He was trying to read her facial expression, but all she was giving him was a sort of Mona Lisa smile. It was times like these when he desperately wished that she was more open about her feelings towards him. He loved the fact that her eyes were so expressive; but sometimes, he needed the direct approach as well. Sometimes, he needed the words.

After a while, Owen finally spoke up. "Cristina, say something. Please," he implored her, quietly.

Cristina leaned across the corner of the small table and took Owen's face into her hands, as she had done when he had told her tragic story of his best – and worst – surgery. But this time, she kissed him – not caring that she did so in front of everyone, including Bailey. Because he had plans for a future that included her. Because he made her want to make plans for a future together as well. Because he was who she'd have when she no longer had surgeries.


	9. The Cardio God Returns

**Author's Note**: As requested by texmex_11 on the Yang/Hunt thread, Owen's going to be punching someone out. Guess who. (Refer to title for a clue.) And of course, thank you for the reviews that you have all been giving me. It warms this little ol' heart of mine. Please keep them coming! :)

* * *

**The Cardio God Returns**

Cristina stood in the lobby of the hospital, close to the main entrance. It was just another ordinary day at Seattle Grace, at least to Cristina's knowledge, filled with piles of charts to go over and childish interns to order around. So, when she heard a very familiar voice saying her name from behind her while she looked over charts, she understandably froze in place and thought she was hallucinating – or worse, pulling an Izzie. When she heard it again, she finally turned around, hoping that she was indeed crazy because the alternative was far worse.

"Cristina," Burke said for the third time.

Every emotion Cristina had felt upon coming back from the ceremony to an apartment emptied of his belongings came rushing back. It overwhelmed her to the point where she couldn't speak. All the things she'd hoped to say at this moment flew out of her mind. For once in her life, Cristina did not have a witty comeback.

Burke, taking her silence as a good sign, set down his briefcase and approached her. He had expected her to yell at him or hit him; or, on the opposite end of spectrum, he had secretly and foolishly hoped that she'd welcome him back with open arms – they had been about to get married, after all. So, when he didn't get any screaming or swinging fists come at him, he opted to believe that she was leaning towards the latter. And in accordance to this belief, he decided to place his hands on either side of her and kiss her – in front of everyone in the hospital.

Perhaps if Burke had bothered to check Cristina's ring finger to see that she had become a ring person – well, a ring person for one man. And had he bothered to check to see who the crowd of hospital staff had been looking at prior to him kissing Cristina, he would have noticed that their curious and anticipative eyes had been going back and forth between three – not two – people: the third being this particular man. And had Burke not been so arrogant to have believed that she wouldn't have moved on, then he may have avoided what happened next.

The moment Burke's lips touched hers, Cristina snapped out of her shell-shocked stupor and broke his hold on her arms to shove him back. She wiped her mouth and was about to tell him off when a huge fist came flying at Burke's face, interrupting what she had been about to say. The fist in question was connected to a very angry, red-headed man who didn't appreciate other men kissing his wife, especially one that had hurt her so terribly in the past.

Owen cradled his bruised hand as he glared at the man who was now lying motionless on the ground. Cristina yelled at the nearby staff members to get her an ice pack; and within seconds, one was placed in her hand. Without so much as a glance at Burke, she went to Owen's side and gingerly placed it on top of his battered knuckles.

"You know, you sort of stole my thunder. I was about to slap him. Now I can't, because he's bleeding and unconscious on the floor; and me hitting him would just be overkill."

Owen's eyes softened as he focused his attention back on his wife, slightly grimacing at the pain in his hand. "Sorry, I don't exactly think so clearly when I see my wife being kissed by another man."

"Apology accepted," she said, placing a subtle, blink-and-you'd-miss-it, light kiss on his hand before replacing the ice pack over it. Finally, she turned back to the crowd that had gathered more closely around them. "Well," she asked, "are you all just going to stand there or is someone going scrape _the_ Preston Burke off the floor?"


	10. Mama Rubenstein Part I

**Author's Note**: Hope this helps with the wait. It turned out a lot longer than I'd previously planned, so I've split it into two chapters. Here's the first one. :D Please continue writing reviews! I appreciate all your comments! Happy reading.

* * *

**Mama Rubenstein: Pre-Dinner Jitters**

Owen waited outside Cristina's apartment building, about to buzz Cristina's apartment, when he saw the same hat-wearing and cane-bearing, older gentleman who'd let him in that night he'd come to pick up Cristina for their "first date" appear at the door. Owen nodded to the older man as they crossed paths, holding the door for him before entering himself.

He'd barely seen Cristina all day, having been caught up with an almost continuous string of traumas that came into the pit. And unluckily for him, Cristina had been assigned to Dr. Dixon for a case; so, for the better part of the day, they were at near opposite ends of the hospital. The only time he had seen her was at lunch – "seen" being the operative word. He had been ready to join her at her table in the cafeteria when her group of friends had suddenly swooped in from out of nowhere. She'd given him an apologetic look and had mouthed over their heads that she'd see him later – but she didn't. Cristina had gone straight home right after work, having gotten off fifteen minutes before him.

If he didn't know any better, he'd think she was avoiding him. And to be honest, he couldn't blame her if she was – he had jumped the gun a bit by basically telling her that he wanted to spend the rest of his life with her. She hadn't acted like she was freaked out, but he probably should have at least waited until _after_ their first, real date.

So, here he was: standing outside Cristina's apartment, slightly worried and desperately wanting to see her. He had gotten accustomed to talking to her every day and sneaking light little touches at work when no one was looking – a graze of her hand or a brush of her hair – and to go through a whole day without doing so was torture. Owen took a deep breath and knocked on her door. He could hear the padding of feet and a muffled curse accompanied with a thud before the door opened.

Cristina stood in the doorway with one high heel and an unzipped black halter dress on. She was using one hand to hold the front of the dress to her chest and the other to keep the door open. The dress had a sort of satin collar from which the material fanned out, flirting over her curves until it ended just above her knees. Owen did a double take, having never seen Cristina in a dress – or anything remotely this fancy – before.

"Um," Owen stammered out, still taking in the vision of Cristina all dolled up, "did we have a date that I didn't know about?" he asked, trying to keep the tone light. In reality, he was trying very hard not to let the tiny slip of jealousy and suspicion creep into his consciousness at the possibility of Cristina dressing up like this for a date with some lucky bastard who was _not_ him.

"Uh, no." Cristina opened and closed her mouth, trying to figure out how to explain herself. "Um, come in," she said, stalling for time to think as she stepped back to let Owen into the apartment.

Owen stopped a few feet past the door, getting a good look at her mostly bare back before she turned around. He gave her a searching look, trying to figure out what was going on. Finally, Cristina gave up trying to come up with a plausible excuse that explained why she was dressed the way she was without actually telling him the complete truth.

"Okay, my mother's in town. It was sort of last minute. Anyways, I'm meeting her at dinner at this restaurant. And it's this nice, upscale restaurant, meaning I have to wear a stupid dress. And I didn't tell you because… Well, I'm doing you a favor. You do _not _want to meet my mother. Trust me on this. Plus, you don't bring a guy you haven't even officially gone on a date with to meet your mother. And I _want _us to go on a date. But, meeting my mother will scare you away, so I didn't tell you – and that's why I was kind of avoiding you today. Look, we can meet up for drinks later. I'll definitely need alcohol after meeting with my mother."

Cristina took a deep gulp of air, slightly out of breath from rambling, and looked up at Owen, trying to gauge his reaction. Owen was relieved. He had been worrying for no reason: she hadn't been running scared. In fact, in her own twisted way, she was telling him that she wanted him to stick around.

Owen smiled and let a tension-releasing chuckle. He closed the space between them, then cupped her face with one hand and caressed her bare shoulder with another. Cristina automatically let go of the front of her dress, letting the flaps of the dress droop on either side of her, and wrapped her arms around his waist.

"Cristina," Owen started, eliciting a slight shiver of pleasure from Cristina upon hearing him say her name, "your mother could never scare me away. I promised you 40 years, so you're getting _at least _40 years. And, whether you like it or not, I'm going to come with you and meet your mother. So, I'm going to let you finish getting ready while I stop by my apartment and get dressed. Then, I'm going to come back to pick you up, and we'll go to the restaurant together. Okay?"

Before Cristina could respond or protest, Owen dipped his head down to give her a quick kiss before letting her go and walking out of her apartment, taking for granted that she'd listen to him and wait for him. Cristina stared at the door for a moment, shocked, before her lips starting curling up into a smile. He kept on surprising her. She contemplated ditching him just to teach him a lesson in making assumptions about her but thought better of it. If anyone were to make tonight bearable, it'd be him. Still smiling, she walked – or rather, limped lopsidedly on one high heel – back into her bedroom to find her other shoe.

***

Owen showed up a little later, dressed in a dark suit and holding a corsage – looking very much like he had when he'd come to pick her up for their first date. Only this time, he wasn't drunk, it was a corsage not a bouquet of flowers, and Cristina was the overly nervous one. While Owen was gone, Cristina had found her other shoe, fixed her hair into a low bun, and zipped up her dress most of the way. Cristina saw the corsage in his hand and playfully rolled her eyes at him, making it clear that she thought he was a dork – a loveable dork, but a dork nonetheless. Owen smiled in return, knowing that she couldn't help but appreciate the gesture on some level, being a deep-in-the-closet romantic. She dutifully let him pin the flower to the front of her dress without a word before presenting her back to him so that he could finish zipping her up. When Owen was done, he brushed his lips against the bare skin of her back, unable to resist the temptation. He grabbed her coat from the hanger, draped it across her shoulders, then presented his free arm to walk her out to his car.

Owen purposely kept her hand on his arm so that he could open the door for her, knowing that she wasn't one for the rules of chivalry; but he had been raised to be a gentleman, and old habits die hard. As he walked over to his side of the car, he saw Cristina look down at the corsage and gently touch one of the fragile petals. He chuckled to himself quietly. Cristina Yang did indeed have a soft spot for romantic gestures. As he buckled himself into his seat, he looked over at Cristina to make sure her seatbelt was on as well before starting the engine.

"So, where are we going?" he asked as he pulled away from the curb.

"I forgot the name of the place. It's some fancy Italian restaurant. It shouldn't be too far from here. Anyways, I put the address into your GPS."

"How were you going to get there? On your bike?" Owen asked, laughing at the image of Cristina pulling up to the valet area on a motorcycle.

"No. I was going to call a cab. Obviously. My mother would kill me if I showed up on my bike. She doesn't know that I still have my bike, so no talking about me having a motorcycle."

"Got it," Owen said with a laugh. "What else can I not talk about?"

Cristina thought for a moment. "I don't know. Honestly, I'm more worried about what my mother will say to you than anything else. But, thankfully, we won't have to stay long. I made Meredith promise to page me after an hour with some 'emergency' – just long enough to eat some food and appease my mother but not long enough to get to the point where I'll undoubtedly commit murder."

Owen scoffed skeptically, not believing that her mother was _that_ bad. Cristina heard this, and responded, "Just you wait. You can still back out, you know. I'd actually be a lot happier if you just dropped me off."

Owen reached over to take her hand in his, sparing her a warm glance. "Cristina, I'm going to have to meet her eventually."

Cristina sighed. "Eventually. Not now."

"Will it really make a difference if I met her later?" Cristina was silent. Owen could see she was starting to get miserable as they got closer to the restaurant, so he tried to alleviate her mood by reminding her of her exit strategy. "Plus, it's only for one hour. It'll be fine. I promise."

"Fine," Cristina conceded. "But, just so you know, the only reason I'm letting you come to this dinner is to save me some cab fare money."

"Right," he replied with a twinkle in his eye.


	11. Mama Rubenstein Part II

**Author's Note**: And here's the continuation/conclusion of _Mama Rubenstein_, the actual dinner and what happens after. Sorry for the length. I know it's on the long side. But, I hope you will all enjoy it anyways. Bon appétit.

* * *

**Mama Rubenstein: Dinner and Awkward Conversation**

Cristina and Owen followed the hostess after Cristina had asked for the table reserved under "Rubenstein". When Owen had raised an eyebrow, having expected to hear her say "Yang," Cristina quickly explained to him that her parents had divorced when she was little and her mom had remarried when she three. Owen nodded in understanding as he walked a step behind her, keeping one hand casually at the small of her back.

When Mrs. Helen Rubenstein looked up from the menu, she noticed two things immediately: first, her daughter was wearing a corsage; and second, she was being closely followed by a ruggedly handsome man. She assumed that the said man was responsible for the fact that her daughter, who had never been one for frivolous or girly accessories, was now sporting a flower on her dress. Helen set down her menu as Cristina and the mystery man neared her table. She gave him an assessing look and decided that her daughter certainly had very wide range of taste in men: he didn't carry himself with the same haughty arrogance of Preston Burke or Colin Marlow; and he looked like a man who got most of his muscular stature from real "man" work rather than the gym. No, for some reason, he reminded Helen of one those epic heroes in those Victorian romance novels: a consummate gentleman, but secretly haunted by demons.

"Mom," Cristina said as she reached the table, "this is Major Owen Hunt. He's the Head of Trauma at Seattle Grace." Cristina didn't offer any more, not entirely sure if she could even call Owen her "boyfriend" – that term often implied having gone on several dates. Plus, she felt a bit weird thinking of Owen, who was all man, a _boy_friend. She leaned over to whisper into her mother's ear, "Don't say anything to embarrass me."

Helen glared at her before extending her hand across the table towards Owen. "Dr. Hunt."

Owen grasped her much smaller hand in his and gave it a brief shake. "Owen, ma'am. Please call me Owen. It's very nice to meet you." He let go of her hand in time to pull out the chair for Cristina before taking a seat himself next to her. Helen noted this gesture with approval – a gentleman, just as she'd guessed.

"Then you must call me Helen."

Cristina looked down at the table and noticed for the first time that there were three place settings. There was no way her mother could have known that she'd bring Owen. Cristina was immediately suspicious.

"Mom, why are there three place settings?"

Helen had been distracted by the fact that Cristina had brought a date that she had completely forgotten that she herself had brought Cristina a date; and said date was bound to come back at any moment, meaning Helen had some explaining to do.

Helen took a sip of her wine, going for a little bit of liquid courage, before giving Cristina an indignant look. "Well, how was I supposed to know that you would bring along a date? You never tell me anything. And you're so busy at the hospital that I thought you wouldn't have time to find a man, so I invited the son of one of Saul's friends who lives here in Seattle." Helen looked at Owen apologetically, which annoyed Cristina since _she _was the one who really needed to be apologized to. Owen gave Helen a comforting smile, sympathetic to a mother's need to meddle in her daughter's life. At this point, Helen looked over Owen's shoulder and motioned at someone, this someone being the potential date in question.

"Sorry about that, Helen," he said as he put his cell phone into his jacket pocket. He leaned down and gave her a polite kiss on the cheek. "The woes of running a company," he provided.

Owen looked at his "competition," not paying attention to what he and Helen were talking about, and knew that he had nothing to worry about. Although he could concede that the man was decent-looking, he was far too groomed to be Cristina's type. In fact, he reminded Owen a bit of Derek and Mark – or as the hospital staff called them, McDreamy and McSteamy. Owen didn't know about who Cristina had been with before him, but he highly doubted that Cristina would ever fall for a guy who looked like he spent five hundred dollars on his haircut. He looked over at Cristina and saw that she was still busy glaring at her mother for putting her in such an awkward position, which he took as a good thing because it meant she was obviously not impressed with her mother's choice in men.

The man in question finally turned to face Cristina and Owen. He briefly gave Owen a look of confusion before directing his attention at Cristina.

"Hello, Cristina. I've heard a lot about you. I'm sorry I can't stay. As I was telling Helen, something came up and I must take care of it. Perhaps we can arrange some other time to get to know each other – over a cup of coffee or something."

Cristina opened her mouth to let him know that such a thing would never happen – and Owen was secretly thinking, _Not while I'm around to bring her coffee_ – which prompted Helen to intervene before Cristina could say something rude or laugh in his face. "That'd be wonderful, David. I'm sure Cristina would enjoy that. Well, you better get back to office. I'll tell Saul you said hello."

Helen gave David a final peck on his cheek before waving him goodbye. David gave both Cristina and Owen a nod before heading out of the restaurant.

"Well, that worked out well," Helen said, as though she were absolved of her crimes because David had ended up leaving. However, Cristina was still a combination of embarrassed and angry over her mother's meddling. Her mother had a knack for putting Cristina in awkward situations with the men in her life.

Owen placed a soothing hand on top of Cristina's knee, knowing that she was fighting very hard not to yell at her mother and cause a scene for the sake of him and the fellow diners.

"Shall we order, then? I'm sure you two must be starving," Helen said, going on as if nothing had happened.

Owen squeezed Cristina's knee, causing her to bite back any retort she had and choose to pick up her menu instead. Owen smiled kindly at Helen before focusing on the entrées.

***

After ordering their food, Helen turned her attention back towards Owen. She was very curious about this new man in Cristina's life.

"So, Owen, how long have you worked at Seattle Grace?"

"Just for a few months. Since I left the military."

Cristina gave her mother a subtle shake of her head, signaling her to not talk about the war or military. Helen, having married into a Jewish family, knew all too well about people with traumatic pasts; so, she breezed right on, acting as if she didn't notice the dark look that briefly passed across Owen's face when he mentioned the military. Instead, she took this opportunity to find out more about his relationship with her daughter.

"What made you choose Seattle Grace?"

Owen gave a nervous chuckle. He figured that telling Cristina's mother that Seattle Grace was where he'd first met and fell for Cristina after pulling an icicle out of her chest and having his leg stapled by her would instigate questions he didn't feel comfortable answering and earn him a kick under the table by Cristina. So, he went for a semi-truthful answer. "The Chief gave me an offer I couldn't refuse."

The food arrived, interrupting the line of questions for a moment. Although the reprieve was short, Owen was thankful for it. Cristina, on the other hand, was getting more and more anxious, just waiting for her mother to say something that would embarrass her further. She snuck a glance at Owen's watch: only twenty-five minutes more of this torture. Underneath the cover of the tablecloth, she placed two fingers on Owen's knee followed by five, letting him know how much longer they had. He covered her hand with his as he ate, glad that he had sat on her left so that he could still eat while holding her hand.

"Well, I'm happy Cristina found such a good-looking young man who is such a gentleman. But, I honestly don't know how such a nice man could be with my daughter. She can be so unpleasant and messy some times. Have you seen her apartment? A disaster. I couldn't even bribe a maid to clean it for her."

"Mom!" Cristina whispered loudly. Even though she shouldn't have been surprised that her mother would call her "unpleasant" – as she had done in front of Burke, she still couldn't believe it, especially since this time her mother knew that she and Owen were dating.

"What?" Helen responded, innocently. "I'm just telling him the truth so that he knows what he's getting himself into. Better he knows now than when you are walking down the aisle. We don't want a repeat of that Burke business."

Cristina dropped her fork, not caring that it fell to the ground. Her mother really needed a filter when it came to discussing her daughter's personal life. Owen's fork, on the other hand, was frozen near his mouth. The words "aisle" and "Burke" stuck out like a sore thumb. Apparently, Cristina also had a former fiancé – an ex-fiancé she had failed to mention to him. Sensing that he better get a handle of the situation before Cristina reached over and throttled her mother, he quickly interceded. First, he took the extra fork that had been for David and placed it gently in Cristina's hand, vaguely aware that there was the tiniest chance she'd use it to stab her mother instead of her steak. Then, he faced Helen and acted as though this "Burke business" was old news.

"You don't need to worry, ma'am. I'm not that easily frightened away." Although Owen was talking to Helen, his message was for Cristina, too – no matter what had happened with this Burke person, he wasn't going anywhere.

However, Owen wasn't sure if Cristina knew what he was trying to tell her since she was angrily shoving food into her mouth so as to refrain from yelling. And, knowing Cristina, even if she had been paying attention, chances were that she wouldn't have understood anyways.

"That's good. Cristina needs a man like you in her life," Helen said, completely oblivious to just how furious Cristina was. Whether this was actual ignorance or on purpose, Owen didn't know Cristina's relationship with her mother well enough to judge. But from what he had seen so far, he'd probably guess the latter.

Helen finally decided to give the conversation a rest and went back to eating her meal. Every now and then, she'd either ask Owen some generic question about working at the hospital or tell Cristina about the latest gossip back in Beverly Hills (to which Cristina only made noncommittal noises).

Finally, when Cristina felt like she was about to explode, her pager went off. Even though less than an hour had passed since dinner started, Meredith had known that Cristina probably couldn't withstand one full hour and had decided to save her "person" early.

Cristina muttered a quick, "Thank god" before finally speaking to her mother. "Sorry, mom, we have to go. There's an emergency at the hospital and need all surgeons. You know: blood, guts, the works. Got to go save lives. Nice seeing you. Good bye." Cristina quickly grabbed her jacket and purse then proceeded to rush out of the restaurant like a bat out of hell. She was in such a rush to get away from her mother that she didn't even wait for Owen.

Owen looked at Helen apologetically, but Helen knew her daughter. "See, unpleasant. I don't know what I did to raise such an unpleasant child."

Owen simply gave her a polite smile in response to that comment. "It was a pleasure to meet you, ma'am. I'm sorry that we have to leave you so soon. Don't worry about the check, I've already paid it." Helen looked at him, surprised. What she didn't realize was that before he and Cristina had come to the table, Owen had already arranged it with the hostess so that he would foot the bill. Owen continued, "I hope that the three of us can have dinner again, soon. Have a safe trip home."

Helen watched Owen's retreating back with a smile. Cristina certainly did choose a good and decent man. She couldn't wait to tell all her friends back home about the new man in her daughter's life – they would be absolutely jealous (and it would certainly make up for that Burke embarrassment).

***

Cristina was standing outside, waiting for the valet to bring up Owen's car. As Owen reached her side, the car pulled up to the curb. The valet went to the other side to let Cristina in and closed the door after her. Owen took the car keys and drove towards Cristina's apartment. Seeing that Cristina was slightly shivering, he turned the heater on low.

"Do you want to talk about it?" Owen asked tentatively, knowing that he had to tread lightly. He knew that Cristina understood what "it" referred to.

Cristina really didn't want to, but Owen deserved more. He had shared so much with her. It was only fair for her to do the same with him. Also, on some level, she wanted him know – just as she had wanted him to know exactly why she'd become a doctor.

"Burke was the Head of Cardio while I was an intern. We slept together, I got pregnant. I wasn't going to keep it; but before I could even tell him, he broke things off. I lost the baby and a fallopian tube, and we got back together. We got engaged, and then he left me at the altar. After going along with his traditional wedding – the dress, the bridesmaids, the church, he still leaves me. Whatever. You know what? He did me a favor. I would've ended up just like my mother – a doctor's wife. I'm a surgeon, not some arm candy."

While a lesser man would've gotten upset over the fact that she'd never told him about this, Owen was just the opposite. He was glad that she could talk to him about difficult parts of her life. Apparently, she was in the "after" as much as he was; and now, he finally understood why she had been so adamant in telling him that Beth had deserved more. Because Cristina had deserved more than the treatment she'd gotten from Burke; and Owen hoped to provide her with what she needed – he would do his damnedest to be the best man for her.

Owen sensed that Cristina needed a response from him, so he interlaced his fingers with hers and brought her hand to his lips. In that simple gesture, he conveyed all the emotions he felt – emotions that were so strong that no word he could think up to describe them could do them justice. Cristina visibly relaxed: although she couldn't always read between the lines of what Owen said to her, she could always read the truth in his eyes and in his touch.

Owen parked his car across the street from her apartment building, followed her in, and walked her all the way to her door. No words needed to be spoken. There had been enough words.

So, when Cristina unlocked the door to her apartment, nothing needed to be said for Owen to know that he wouldn't be going back to his place tonight – because although Cristina would probably never say the words, she needed the comfort of his arms tonight. After Owen quietly close the door behind him so that he wouldn't awaken Callie, he followed Cristina into her bedroom, picking up the shoes she'd carelessly left laying in the living room. And when she gently removed the corsage to place it on her desk to be hidden away with other keepsakes later, Owen came up behind her to unzip her dress and caress the skin he revealed. He politely turned his back as she changed into her pajamas, although he was tempted to sneak a peek (he was still a man, after all). But, tonight was not the time for romantic interludes. No, tonight was about comfort – about him comforting her in the same way she'd comforted him after his panic attack. With his back still turned, he pulled off his tie, shed his suit jacket, and unbuttoned the first couple buttons of his shirt.

A brand new toothbrush entered Owen's view, and Owen turned around to take it from Cristina's hand. They brushed their teeth in comfortable silence before going back into Cristina's bedroom. Owen waited for her to climb into her side of the bed first, settle herself into the pillows, and turn of the light before going to the opposite side. He finished stripping down to his boxers before getting under the covers himself. He shifted towards the middle of the bed, prompting Cristina to lift her head and position it in the crook of his neck. Lying on her side, she wrapped her free arm loosely around his chest. Owen placed his free arm partially on top of hers so that his fingers curled around the area above her elbow. Soon, the rhythm of their breathing slowed down to the same tempo. The last thought in Owen's mind before he drifted to sleep was that he could get used to 40 more years of this.


	12. Before and After

**Author's Note**: A short little filler scene to bridge the gap between "Beat Your Heart Out" and "Before and After". As always, don't forget to leave a review! (And of course, thank you for all who have been leaving me reviews. :D Your words of kindness are the only payment I need.)

* * *

**Before and After**

Awareness slowly crept into Owen's consciousness as he opened his eyes to a darkened room. It took a moment to register that his "pillow" was moving up and down in the rhythm of a person breathing. As his vision adjusted to the dark, Owen could start to make out the shape of his arm and then his hand. The sight of Cristina's right hand joined with his left shocked him awake as the memory of what had happened rushed into his mind. Beth was in the hospital. His ex-fiancée. Her timing couldn't have worse. He had been having one of the best days in his life before she had shown up; and had Beth not shown up, the on-call room probably would have been used for something much more than just sleeping.

Owen carefully lifted his head from Cristina's chest so as to not jostle her awake. She was snoring softly, a trait he found absolutely endearing – but she probably wouldn't appreciate him telling her that. She looked so peaceful that he didn't want to wake her, even though it was killing him to not tell her what had triggered the panic attack earlier. He was grateful to her for not asking him, but he knew that she was probably dying with curiosity.

Sometime during the night, she'd taken her hair out of the ponytail and shifted little lower onto the bed so that she could sleep more comfortably with her head resting on the pillows instead against the wall. Owen had been so emotionally and physically exhausted that he had slept through this change in positions. Normally, any slight movement would have woken him; but the combination of sleeping so closely with Cristina and the draining effect of the panic attack had kept him passed out throughout the entire night.

Seeing the woman of his past in the same place with the woman of his present (and hopefully future) had been a real shock to his system. And now as the memory of seeing Beth behind Cristina in the hallway, he couldn't help but compare the two of them. The stark contrast between the two women only affirmed his belief that he was no longer the man that was capable of being with a woman like Beth – she was too sweet, too sheltered, and too unprepared for the trials and tribulations of the real world. Maybe if he hadn't entered the military and seen war, he would've been able to be happy with Beth. But, he had, and he couldn't. Plus, he would have never met Cristina had he done things differently; and the sense of purpose and belonging he felt with Cristina – now that he knew such a bond existed, he could never give it up. It was as though he hadn't truly known what love was till the moment he'd met her. Not even with Beth had he felt this…complete – and he had been ready to marry her. No, with Cristina, it was like finding his soul mate – a concept he had never believed in before.

With his elbow braced against the bed and his head resting in the palm of his hand, he lightly wrapped an errant curl around the index finger of his free hand. He rubbed the black tendril between his thumb and his finger, enjoying the sensation of her hair against his skin. He loved her hair – he especially loved to get his fingers tangled in it when he was kissing her. Kissing her – another thing he loved. He now regretted not having kissed her that when he'd had the chance: when they had both been in the on-call room before he'd been paged away. The last time he'd kissed her had been on the vent – and if that was to be their last kiss, he guessed that he should be grateful that it had been a _real_, passionate kiss and not some simple peck on the lips. But he really hoped that it wouldn't be their last kiss and that Cristina would still stay with him after he told her about Beth.

Owen glanced at his watch and realized that it wouldn't be long before his pager would go off and wake up Cristina. She hadn't slept much last night, what with staying up late to read some journal; and Owen wanted her to get as much sleep as possible. Sleep was a luxury – something he knew all too well.

He took one last look at Cristina's face, trying to imprint in his memory this image of her looking very much like an angel, with her hair fanned out like a halo on the pillow. He reluctantly let go of his hold on her hair, brushing it away lovingly from her face. He leaned close to the side of her neck and gave it the barest of grazes with his lips, causing her to stir slightly and make an involuntary hum of pleasure. Knowing that any further contact would be too risky, Owen carefully slid off the bed and quietly made his way to the door. With one last longing look at Cristina's sleeping figure, he opened the door and let himself out.


	13. Hormones and On Call Rooms

**Author's Note**: Prepare yourself. It's my first ever sex scene. I usually write around it or end the chapter right before it; but with the onslaught of Cristina/Owen spoilers that have gotten some of you in a tizzy, I've decided to provide a bit of relief – as it were. Afterwards, I will probably die of embarrassment. But for you, it's worth it.

* * *

**Hormones and On-Call Rooms**

"Come here," Cristina whispered, gesturing frantically at Owen from behind the door to the on-call room before disappearing from view.

Owen walked closer, curious and confused, but obediently heeded her demand as he approached the closed door. A smile played at his lips as he tried to figure out what she wanted. He doubted that much could have happened since he'd left their bed this morning, having had an earlier shift. The band of his wedding ring made a slight clinking noise against the metal knob as he slowly entered the dimly lit room.

As Owen's eyes slowly adjusted, he felt Cristina press herself up against him. He instinctively wrapped his arms around her and was surprised to feel bare skin. No wonder she'd been hiding behind the door. Apparently, Cristina was a tad underdressed for hospital rounds; but he didn't mind – not at all. Owen gently placed his hands on her slender waist, fitting his hands into the curved space above her hips. Cristina reached through the crook of his arm to lock the door behind him.

Owen cleared his throat, finally finding his voice. "Not that I don't appreciate getting a chance to hold you, but what is this about?" Owen asked over the top of her head, his nose taking in the familiar scent of her shampoo – shampoo that he'd massaged into her hair last night during their shower together. Just thinking about it made his heart race – among other things. Normally, he'd be able to control the reaction such thoughts had on his body; but the combination of a nearly naked Cristina nuzzling his chest like a kitten and her soft hands caressing his back from under his scrubs made it hard for him to not become, well, hard.

"Can't you guess? Or do you want me to spell it out for you?" Cristina asked, leaning away just far enough so that she could tug his shirt off. She shivered slightly in response as the solid plane of his chest met the lacy cups of her bra.

She started placing light feathery kisses down his chest, her nipples hardening from the friction of brushing against him as she would lean in to press her lips against his skin then move away to shift mere centimeters lower down his body. Owen inhaled quickly upon feeling her soft lips graze his stomach; and his fingers clenched into a fist in her mane of black curls. Cristina's lips formed a smile at his reaction, knowing how difficult it was for him to just let her have her way with him. Ever since they found out that she was pregnant, he'd been a lot gentler with her, which was all good and well; but sometimes, Cristina just wanted it quick and dirty, which was why she was now trying to slowly drive Owen insane to the point of making him lose control.

Cristina finally reached the top of his scrub pants. She loosened the ties and drew down both the pants and his boxer briefs to his feet. His erection stared back at her, just waiting to be taken by hand. Cristina looked upward, meeting the intense gaze of Owen's piercing blue eyes, as she wrapped her fingers around the base of his cock and took the tip into her mouth. Upon the first lick of her tongue, Owen nearly came apart. He let out a guttural groan, resisting the urge to lift her to her feet, shove her against the wall, and drive right into her.

Cristina moved her hand up and down in rhythm with her mouth at an excruciatingly slow pace, all the while keeping eye contact with him. Owen kept one hand in her hair while the other one was joined with hers near his pelvic bone. His hips involuntarily moved backwards and forwards, attempting to quicken the pace; but Cristina maintained her torturous rhythm, refusing to let him get the upper hand.

Owen finally couldn't stand it anymore. He pulled her to tiptoes, one hand securing her against his body and the other cupping the side of her face, and fused his lips against hers. He tenderly bit on her full bottom lip then quickly soothed it with his tongue. Her lips parted, giving Owen the opportunity to slide his tongue inside to mate with hers. Cristina let a moan of pleasure as Owen moved his hand from her waist to the front of her panties. He reached down between them and rubbed her through the fabric, already moist from her anticipation. _Two could play at this game_, he thought, using his fingers to stroke her in a similarly slow pace. Cristina grasped his wrist, attempting to make him go faster, but Owen was set on his payback. She groaned in frustration then lifted one leg up so that he could get better access. Owen let out a small laugh against her lips and murmured, "Not so fast, sweetheart."

Cristina leaned close to his ear and whispered in reply, "But I want it quick… and dirty." Then, she took his earlobe between her teeth and tugged playfully.

Always the gentleman, Owen abided by his lady's wishes, taking this opportunity to unhook her bra. Cristina let it fall the floor, kicking it away. As she removed her underwear, he finished removing his own clothes and carelessly shoved them out of the way. The second they were both completely naked, he grabbed Cristina from behind with one arm and led her to the door. Interlacing their fingers with his palm on the back of her hand, he pressed her palm against the door. Cristina braced both hands against the door, her legs shoulders' width apart. Owen used his free hand to ease himself inside her, reveling in the sensation of her muscles clenching tightly around him. When he'd filled her to the hilt, he brushed her hair to one side to bare her neck and started moving.

As he thrust into her – in and out in deep, fluid movements – his free hand kneaded her breasts – breasts that were slightly larger and a little more sensitive than usual. Cristina took one hand off the door and reached behind her to wrap her arm around his neck. Owen traced a path of little love bites from the back of her neck to her shoulder, not caring that he would probably leave marks. Owen's hand shifted lower, down her slightly rounded stomach to her clit.

"Oh my god," Cristina breathed as she felt his fingers on the core of her. "Owen."

Owen rubbed her little nub in earnest, feeling her constrict around him with every stroke. Cristina could feel all her senses start pooling into that area and knew that she wouldn't be able to stand by herself any longer.

She squeezed his wrist and said, "Wait." Owen stilled, even though it took all his willpower to do so. He pulled out of her, still as hard as ever, and waited for her next instructions. Cristina took her hand away from the door, her arm feeling like jelly, and turned around. She placed a hand on his chest and pushed him gently towards the bed. He sat down and moved to the center of the bed. Cristina straddled him, easing him inside of her.

"My turn," she whispered and started rocking her hips forwards and backwards. Owen took her hands from his shoulders and moved them so that they were behind her back then held them both in place with one hand. With his free hand cupped her neck and lavished attention on her breasts and nipples with his tongue. But Cristina wanted to be in control, so she wrestled her arms free from his grasp and shoved him back so that his head rested on the pillows. She leaned over him, hands braced on either side of him and rode him. Owen sensed that they were both teetering on the edge of an orgasm, so he wrapped his arms around her, drew her tightly against his chest, and rolled her over onto her back.

Bracing the bulk of his weight on his forearms, he made a path along her neck and shoulders with his tongue, knowing that she was sensitive there. Cristina wrapped her legs around his waist, her hips thrusting in harmony with his.

Owen couldn't hold back any longer and started thrusting into her fast and deep. He slanted his mouth against hers, trying to muffle her screams of ecstasy and his groans of pleasure – no need to draw the attention of those outside. The tension was escalating within both of them; and Owen could feel the beginnings of Cristina's orgasm around his cock, spurring his own. With a final thrust, he came inside of her, and they both collapsed in utter satisfaction.

Cristina's legs fell from his waist as she felt all the strength of her muscles drain out of her. Owen quickly rolled off of her, not wanting to harm the baby, and lay beside her. The last thought in both their minds before passing out was that pregnancy certainly had its perks.


	14. I Will Follow You Into The Dark

**Author's Note**: Although I was a bit disappointed with the lack of screen time these lovebirds had together in this episode, I still very much enjoyed it and the moments we got. But, as usual, there are missing scenes. So, here are some of my imagined filler scenes for the episode.

* * *

"**I Will Follow You Into The Dark"**

Cristina wandered the hallways of Seattle Grace, searching for a familiar head of red hair. She finally spotted him sleeping on a cot, resting on his side and partially facing the wall. _Poor Owen_, she thought to herself as she made her way towards him with a smile on her face. Either the on-call rooms were taken by horny hospital staff or he had passed out on the first available bed there was.

She stopped at the edge of the gurney and gently rested her hands on his shoulder. "Hey," she said softly in a playful tone.

Owen woke up with a start, his arm lashing out and knocking Cristina backwards. Owen watched with horror as she collided into the shelves of medical supplies behind her, causing various items to fall down on her. As Cristina slid to the floor, she let out a couple of "ows" as something scraped her forearm. Looking at her arm and then at Owen, she let out a very sarcastic, "Morning."

She could see in his face just how appalled he was over his involuntary reaction and its consequences, and she knew that he was going to beat himself up over it. Owen continued to stare at the bloody gash, wishing that it wasn't real. It was one thing for his problems to mess up _his_ life, but it was completely unacceptable for it to hurt Cristina's in any way.

While keeping her arm away from her body, Cristina started to get up from the floor, using her uninjured arm to push herself up. Owen was immediately at her side, helping her up, careful not to touch her right arm and holding her as if she were made out of china. Still unable to look her in the eye, he focused his attention downward. Once she was fully upright, she bent down to pick up the stuff that had fallen; there was no way was she going to piss off the nurses – she had learned that lesson long ago. Plus, there were no interns to boss around, since Izzie had hogged them all for Patient X, leaving only her clean up the mess.

"Leave it," Owen said, gently grabbing her left arm and leading her towards the ER, where he could take care of her arm.

"But…" Cristina started to protest, but Owen was already taking her around the corner. Hopefully, no one had seen her or Owen – or else, there would be hell to pay. Well, for her – the nurses all had a soft spot for Major Owen Hunt. Cristina wasn't blind; she had seen many of them whispering or fixing their hair whenever he was around.

Finally, they reached the ER and Owen sat her down on the edge of a cot. He pulled the nearby tray towards him and began to tend to her arm.

"You know, I can take of it myself. I'm sure you've got better things to do than clean up a tiny scratch," Cristina said as he carefully cleaned the wound.

"_I_ did this to you, so _I_ am going to fix it," Owen said, his tone betraying the disgust he was feeling over the fact that he'd hurt her.

Cristina caught this and tried to lighten the mood. "Are you going to close the blinds and kiss me afterwards?" Cristina asked, referring to the first time he'd fixed her up.

Owen begrudged a smile at that bittersweet memory: for him, it was both a reminder of the instant attraction he'd had the first time he'd met her and of a time when he'd been less emotionally damaged.

Cristina could see that he still wasn't appeased, so she continued. "I once dreamt that I was hanging out a window, hanging onto the drapes. I woke up, pulling Meredith's hair out." Cristina dipped her head down, trying to get him to look her in the eye, and said, "Ha."

Owen briefly glanced up but continued tending to her wordlessly. When that tactic didn't work, Cristina tried a different route. "So, we've got a trauma coming in, a trampling on a football field…"

Owen finally spoke up, interrupting her. "No, I don't need your help," he said, setting the tweezers back on the tray.

"Oh, but I'm on your service today," Cristina replied.

Owen looked up at her from his seat, taking on a professional tone. "Well, I'm telling you, Dr. Yang, to take care of that elbow." Owen got up from the stool and saw Meredith approaching.

Cristina was about to protest, only getting out a "so" before Meredith interrupted her. "There you are. What happened to you?"

"Oh, I tripped and fell. It's fine." Cristina didn't want Owen to feel worse than he did. The man had a serious savior complex.

"No, no," Owen countered, "it's not."

However, this was more for himself than for the women. What had happened was _not_ fine. The last person he'd ever want to hurt was Cristina. Although she didn't find what had happened to be a big deal, Owen certainly did. What he had done, regardless of it being an accident, was inexcusable in his book. He walked off, still angry at himself, and went to take Cristina off his service. Even though she probably wouldn't agree with his decision to distance himself, he would rather have her upset with him than to have something like this happen again. If Cristina wasn't going to protect herself from him, then he was going to – even though it meant that they had to be apart.

***

Cristina was once again finding herself looking for a familiar head of red hair. Over the past few days, they had been eating their meals together at the cafeteria whenever they got the chance. Cristina was sure that to some, the sight of the two of them together was surprising; but she honestly couldn't care less what other people thought. She caught him on his way out of the cafeteria with a sandwich and files in hand. Apparently, Owen was hell-bent on avoiding her today and was off to hide in his office for lunch. Men – the weaker sex.

She quickened her pace in order to intercept him, giving him a warning "hey" before grabbing his arm. Owen's eyes glanced in her direction then immediately went back to the stack of papers in his hand. Cristina picked up her gait to match his, since he was being uncooperative and refusing to slow down. In fact, if she didn't know any better, he was actually walking faster than before.

Exasperated at his unwillingness to stop and talk to her, she finally and forcefully took hold of his arm and dragged him into an unoccupied exam room. Pushing him in before her, she closed the door behind her.

"Look, you've got to stop avoiding me. I'm fine. See?" Cristina threw out her arms and gestured towards her body, purposely having pushed down the sleeves of her undershirt so that he wouldn't have to see the bandage.

Owen looked up from the floor to confirm the fact that she hadn't been injured anywhere else from having fallen into the shelves but still refused to meet her gaze. Even though she had covered up her right forearm, the image of her bleeding was still heavily imprinted in his mind. It was an image that would haunt him for the rest of his life.

Owen was saved from any further awkwardness when his pager went off. The last time a pager had interrupted them while they were alone, it had been just before he was about to kiss her. This time, though, Owen was immensely relieved for an excuse to leave the room.

"Uh, sorry. I have to go." He gave her a brief nod before he left, giving her a wide berth on his way to the door.

Cristina stared at the closed door for a moment then groaned in frustration. For probably the first time in their relationship, _she _was the one who wanted to talk and _he_ was the one trying to avoid the issue.

***

Cristina was a woman with a mission. Owen wasn't going to avoid her any longer, and he was going to listen to what she had to say. Spotting Owen at a computer updating the schedule, she made her way towards him with concrete determination. She cleared her throat then shoved him aside so that she could access the computer.

Owen rolled to the side, and he let out a surprised laugh, looking at Cristina curiously. "What are you doing?" he asked as Cristina typed on the keyboard.

"Assigning myself onto a trauma with you tomorrow," Cristina replied.

Owen glanced at the screen and saw that she had indeed put her name there and tried to grab her hand, saying, "Cristina, you…"

Cristina pulled her hand away and stepped back, stopping him mid-sentence. "You know, I'm a big girl. I can handle my share of trauma. And I get to decide when I've had enough."

Owen stared up at her, waiting for her to continue.

Cristina looked down, collecting herself. She had never been one to talk about feelings or relationships, but this was important. _He_ was important, and he needed to know that she wasn't going anywhere. Finally finding the right words, she looked into his eyes and said, "It's going to take a lot more than a bad dream to scare me off."

Owen leaned forward and held her left hand. "It's more than a bad dream." He told her this because she deserved the truth, and she needed to know that things weren't going to be easy.

But Cristina already knew all this, and she still wanted to be with him. She raised her right hand to stroke the side of his face. "I know," she said softly, her voice slightly breaking with the wave of emotions that she was feeling.

Owen dropped his head down and pulled Cristina closer, burying his face into her stomach and wrapping his arms around her. Cristina reached behind her to close the door to give them a little privacy then went back to stroking his hair.

Knowing that Owen's mind would start drifting towards darker thoughts if she didn't speak up soon, Cristina spoke up. "So, apparently, I've got some serious competition for your affections."

Owen leaned his back to look at her quizzically.

"Apparently Alex is now the one to watch? See, this is what happens when you take me off your service. I get replaced."

Owen pulled Cristina into his lap so that they were almost at eye level. "I've only got eyes for you," he said, his tone earnest.

Cristina smiled. "Good." She brought her right arm up rest it around his shoulder and involuntarily winced as she accidentally grazed her cut. Owen caught this brief expression of pain and instantly took her arm from his neck to examine it. He carefully rolled up the sleeve so that he could get a better look. Cristina could see his dismay creep into his face, so she quickly spoke to keep him from dwelling on it.

"Trust me. I'll probably do more damage to your back when we have sex."

Owen's head immediately came up, unsure if he had heard her right. "What?"

"You know, sex. Birds and the bees. It's okay. I'll try to go easy on you since you're such a delicate flower. Your virtue is safe with me." Cristina smiled at the shocked expression on his face. Owen's mouth was slightly agape, and he was having a hard time finding an appropriate response. But Cristina wasn't going to give him a chance to reply. "Anyways, I'll see you at Joe's later," she said, figuring that he'd feel obligated to show up if she made it a statement instead of a question. Plus, if he was able to ask her out on a date without waiting for her to accept, then she was able to invite him out to drinks without waiting for him to accept either. With that, she gave him a breezy kiss on the lips, eased herself off his lap, and left him with more positive thoughts to contemplate.


	15. Stand By Me

**Author's Note**: Now, I know there weren't any real Cristina/Owen scenes in this episode (other than the first group scene with the face transplant patient and them mentioning each other), so I thought I'd help out with those of you who were upset by giving you a take on what I thought happened offscreen after Owen's talk with Callie and Derek.

* * *

"**Stand By Me"**

Owen glanced at his watch as he pulled into a parking space next to the hospital. Cristina's solo surgery was up in just a few minutes, meaning that there wasn't any time to change back into his scrubs for his shift; and he didn't want to miss it. He quickly got out of the car and rushed through the sliding doors, running in order to make it to the observation deck in time. He knew that he probably looked a bit odd running through the hallways of Seattle Grace in his civvies, but he did not want to miss a moment. It wasn't that he thought that Cristina needed him – in fact, he was pretty sure that she didn't need him – but she'd seemed distracted and wouldn't tell him what was going on. He figured that he'd let her tell him when she was ready – he, of all people, knew about not wanting to talk about certain things.

As he entered the observation deck, slightly out of breath from having gone up the stairs in lieu of the elevator, he took a seat near the glass window looking down into the OR. The room was empty except for him, since everyone else was too busy trying to watch the face transplant. And for that, he was grateful.

Owen could hear Cristina talking to the patient, assuring the middle-aged Asian woman that the surgery was not a silly procedure to her. Owen wasn't surprised that Cristina didn't sound all that nervous, even though it was her first solo surgery. As she held others to a high standard, she held herself even higher. She was going to be a brilliant surgeon indeed, and Owen intended to still be with her when she was.

When Owen saw Cristina hesitating a little too long, he leaned closer to the glass panes and started to get worried. He nervously whispered to the empty room, "Come on, Cristina. You can do it."

Finally, Cristina spoke. "Izzie has stage four metastatic melanoma that has spread to her brain, liver, and skin. She may only have months to live, and she's resisting treatment. She needs help."

Owen watched as Cristina let out a visible sigh of relief from having finally been able to spill the secret that she had been keeping to herself for all this time. "Scalpel," Cristina said, presenting her gloved hand in preparation to receive the scalpel from the scrub nurse.

If it weren't for the fact that he knew how devastating this news was to Cristina, Alex, and Bailey, he probably would have laughed over Cristina's awful sense of timing. Instead, he anxiously awaited Cristina to finish the surgery so that he could talk to her and see how she was. Even though Cristina was unnaturally good at compartmentalizing, this situation with Izzie was definitely eating away at her. Owen now understood why she hadn't been able to tell him before: it hadn't her secret to tell. And the only reason she'd finally told was for Izzie's sake.

***

The surgery didn't take very long; but for Owen, it seemed like forever as he waited for her to finish. The moment he saw her start removing her surgical apron, he rushed downstairs to meet her. He reached her as she was coming out the swinging door. As the door swung inward, Owen could see that both Alex and Bailey had already left – probably to talk to Izzie or her friends.

"Cristina," Owen said, gaining her attention. She had known that he would be there. Owen always seemed to be there.

He gently took her hand and led her into an empty on-call room. Closing the door behind them, he turned to see Cristina sit down on the edge of the lower bunk bed. Owen locked the door and sat down beside her, thigh to thigh.

Cristina raised one hand to remove the surgical cap, letting her curly black hair cascade down. Owen could feel some of the tendrils against his upper arm – her hair truly seemed to have a life of its own sometimes.

Cristina paused, searching for words. She settled on humor. "Guess you're not the only badass doctor in the hospital. I totally rocked my first solo surgery."

Owen remained quiet, knowing that she needed to ease herself into talking about Izzie's cancer. He silently took her right hand in his and let their joined hands lay on his thigh. He moved his left arm behind her, and Cristina automatically leaned over so that her head could rest in the crook of his neck. Owen rested his chin atop her head and wrapped his arm around her shoulders.

"I wanted to tell you about Izzie, but she wouldn't let me tell anyone. I've been calling in favors all day to try and get her the best surgeon, but she didn't even go. She's only got a 5 percent chance, Owen. Five. And if she refuses treatment, she's only got months to live. How could I have missed something like this? How could any of us have missed this?"

"It's not your fault," Owen said.

Cristina leaned back so that she could look him in the eye. "But we're doctors. And she's one of us. How could we not have seen this?"

Owen gave her the same look he'd given her when she had been lying on the gurney, telling him about how she had killed a man because she couldn't do a stitch. He cupped the side of her face and replied, "It's because she is one of you that you didn't see it. Sometimes the hardest things to see are those that are right in front of us."

Cristina paused a moment, realizing that he was not only talking about Izzie but about himself. But now was not the time for _that _discussion: Cristina still had to tell Izzie and convince her to seek treatment and to let her know that the secret was out.

"I have to go find Izzie," Cristina said finally, knowing that Owen would immediately understand without explanation.

"Okay," he responded.

"I'll find you later, okay?"

Owen nodded. Cristina moved out of his embrace and stood up. Before she turned to leave, she leaned down and gave him a brief kiss on his lips. Straightening back up, she raised her hand to stroke the side of his face.

"Thank you," she said, her eyes conveying the depth of her sincerity.

Owen acknowledged her gratitude, closed his eyes, and pressed a kiss into her palm. With one last gentle tug on his ear, she turned and left in search of Izzie.


	16. Chicken Soup

**Author's Note**: Just a little bit of "stupid nothing" to (hopefully) put a smile on your faces. Enjoy! (And hang in there!)  


* * *

**Chicken Soup**

"Cristina, what are you doing here?"

Owen looked up from the chart in his hand and glanced toward the sound of Bailey's voice. Standing near the sliding doors that connected the ambulance bay and the ER, Owen saw the bundled up form of one Cristina Yang just inside the door, swaying slightly on her feet. Cristina had stopped in her tracks upon being caught by Bailey and looked to be contemplating how she was going to explain herself.

As Bailey walked past him to reach Cristina, he quickly stepped in front of her. "Dr. Bailey, why don't you let me handle this so that you can go back to your patient?"

Bailey gave him a pointed look. What was it with these attendings? Couldn't they find people that they _weren't_ the bosses of? She knew that they were no longer her interns, but they would always be her babies. At least this one knew what professionalism was and wasn't just some pretty boy chasing after any available female – unlike most of the men in the hospital.

"Fine. But apparently, you didn't handle it well enough the first time, or she wouldn't be here now." And with that, Bailey left. Owen watched the tiny little spitfire briefly, still not used to the messed up hierarchy of power in Seattle Grace. And even though Major Owen Hunt was a man who believed in the propriety of rankings, he could never seem to find the courage to call Bailey on her blatant insubordination. Owen shook his head in exasperation then turned around to deal with Cristina.

As he approached her, Owen tried to hide his smile as Cristina stood her ground with a slight stubborn tilt of her chin. He had left her that morning with explicit orders to stay at home and rest. It was just like Cristina to pretend that she was heeding his advice and then ignore it.

Just as he got to her side, Cristina's battle against dizziness lost and she swayed to one side. Owen immediately encircled her waist with his strong arms and steadied her. Cristina felt like a limp doll against his chest as he held her upright.

"Cristina, you can't even stand up on your own. How are you going to work?"

"I'll do my rounds in a wheelchair," Cristina replied haughtily, pushing against his chest to prove that she didn't need his help. Owen kept an arm at her waist anyways just to make sure she wouldn't topple over.

"There's no way I'm going to let you work while you're this sick," Owen said.

Cristina glared at him. "_Let_ me work? Who are _you _to decide whether or not I can work?"

Owen gave her a grin. "Cristina, I'm still technically your boss."

Cristina tried to scoff at him but ended up going into a coughing fit. Owen tried to rub her back, but she waved him away. When she finally stopped, she replied, "Well, maybe you should've thought of that before you decided to kiss me. Or sleep with me. Or live with me."

Owen laughed in response. Though he was legitimately trying to be sympathetic and let her rant at him, he couldn't help but find her adorable as her words came out slightly nasally because her nose was stuffed.

Cristina, already miserable from her illness, did not appreciate being laughed at. She groaned in frustration and tried to walk past him towards the locker room, but Owen held her in place.

"Go home, Cristina. I already called in sick for you. It's okay if you take one day off."

"There is no way I'm going to miss a day of work. This is a competition. Missing a day would give me a handicap. What if some really awesome trauma comes in, and I'm not here? No way am I going to leave." Cristina ended her tirade with another coughing fit.

Owen gathered her into arms, not caring that people would see. He kissed her on the top of her forehead before Cristina shoved him back a bit, embarrassed by the public display of affection. He just laughed, refusing to let go. She just looked so pitiful standing there, bundled up in a cocoon, that he couldn't resist holding her in his arms.

"You're in no shape to work today, Cristina. Plus, if you don't rest, you'll just stay sick longer. If some 'awesome trauma' comes, I will let you know," Owen said.

Cristina finally gave in. She looked him straight in the eyes and asked, "You promise?"

"Promise," he replied, twirling a lock of her hair with his fingers. Owen hoped that nothing exciting happened today, since he really didn't want to give her a reason to come back. He entertained the idea of just not letting her know, but he knew that she would find out eventually and he'd have to spend at least a week on the couch – and he hated spending his nights without her by his side, especially since it had taken them so long to be able to sleep in the same bed together again.

Satisfied with his sincerity, Cristina stopped trying so hard to pretend that she was strong and healthy and wilted from fatigue in his arms, knowing that his arms could withstand her weight. Owen held her close in his arms and whispered in her ear, "You can't walk, can you?"

"No," Cristina admitted reluctantly. She had spent all the energy she had trying to come to work that she'd exhausted herself to the point where she could barely move.

Owen smiled into her hair, knowing how difficult it was for her to admit weakness of any kind. Without a warning, he bent down and scooped her up in his arms, cradling her the same way he had when she had been impaled by an icicle. Cristina buried her face in the crook of his neck as Owen carried her outside and across the street to her apartment. She could hear him yell at someone that he'd be back shortly before feeling a gust of wind blow through her hair. She shivered slightly and held on tighter.

***

A few moments later, Owen placed Cristina in the middle of the bed and tucked the blankets around her. He went into the kitchen and placed a glass of water on the nearby nightstand along with some medicine. Sitting on the edge of the bed, he brushed away the errant curls from her face and stroked her cheek.

Cristina pulled her hand from under the blankets and covered his hand with hers, letting out a soft sigh. Owen smiled. Knowing he was needed back at the hospital, he leaned forward to gently kiss her forehead. Then, hovering a few centimeters from her ear, he whispered, "Stay in bed this time. I'll make you chicken soup when I get home." With one last kiss to the back of her hand, he reluctantly left her side. He paused at the bedroom doorway for a moment, taking in the sight of her dozing peacefully in bed. He stood there for a minute, watching as Cristina automatically shifted from the middle of the bed to her usual side and wrapping one arm around the pillow he used. The sight of her lying there like that warmed his heart. Nowadays, it was as though she needed him with her to be able to sleep comfortably. It wasn't too long ago when the opposite was true, and Owen was thankful that those days were far behind them.

With one last look at the wonderfully stubborn but fiercely loving woman who'd stolen his heart and saved his soul, Owen let himself out the apartment and locked the door with his key. _And hopefully this time_, Owen thought to himself, _Cristina will stay put_.


	17. MRI Contemplation

**Author's Note**: Owen has some time to reflect on him and Cristina as he gets the MRI scan in "Elevator Love Letter". A short one-shot.

* * *

**MRI Contemplation**

She was afraid of him – and that was what hurt the most: the woman he loved being afraid to be with him. She should feel safe in his arms – not worry that he'd have another nightmare. The moment she'd uttered those words, "I'm lying here in your arms, and I'm afraid to fall asleep," he could feel his heart shattering. He could no longer deny that the fact that he could not handle this alone.

He had so many regrets. He wished he'd never tried to stay away from her – that he had listened to his heart and had just kissed her the moment he'd seen her in the way he'd been imagining it ever since their first kiss. He wished he'd never run into Derek's mother before his date or taken that first shot of whiskey, so that he and Cristina could have gone to that lighthouse and seen the Northern Lights. But most of all, he wished he hadn't come back damaged – so that she would still be lying in his arms right now and reveling in the afterglow of having made love.

Even now, he could still remember the feel of her skin against his: satin to stone. He had spent every moment trying to memorize her: the way her hair fanned out on the pillow as he gently laid her on the bed; the way her toes curled against the back of his thighs as he caressed her leg; the way her lips opened as she gasped in pleasure. This wasn't how things were supposed to happen. Their first time making love shouldn't have been tainted with a bittersweet shadow that loomed in the backs of their minds. But these were the memories that would have to sustain him till he could win her back.

Even as he'd stood up and asked her if he could hold her, he had known that it was probably going to be the last time he'd be able to hold her like that for a long time. And he believed that she felt that, too – that it was a temporary good-bye. And it was going to be temporary – he had to believe that, if nothing else. He couldn't imagine a life that didn't include Cristina by his side.

He was doing this for her. He would throw aside his pride and admit he needed help – for her. Because a life without Cristina was no life at all, and he desperately needed to be the man in her life – the same way that she was the woman in his. They were soul mates, an idea he had never believed in till he'd laid eyes on her. Cupid's arrow had instantly struck his heart when he'd seen her for the first time, and he had fell in love – though it had foolishly taken some time for him to truly realize it. Love had no order, and it wasn't rational – and Owen deeply believed in both; but that fact never mattered when he was with her. Because _she _made sense, and _she _gave his life order.

But now she was gone. He had lost her, and it was no one's fault but his. His hands had failed him. The same hands that had cupped her face as he kissed her or stroked her cheek while she was sleeping had caused her harm. When he'd seen the bruises on her neck, he could feel his heart break. And when they'd made love, he had placed feather light kisses on her neck, in an attempt to make them go away – to make those memories go away. And Owen hoped that one day, those memories would fade and be replaced with happier ones.

Derek's voice suddenly jolted him from his thoughts, and Owen gave a slight cough to clear the lump that had formed in his throat as he'd been thinking about Cristina. As the machine whirred in motion to slide him out from under the scan, Owen silently gripped the blanket that covered him in determination. He was going to get better, and he was going to become whole and healthy. Because he knew, with every fiber of his being, that he and Cristina were meant to be together.


	18. Back to Basics

**Author's Note**: This is just the updated version of a classic "Grey's Anatomy" scene. For the hardcore fans, you should be able to guess which it is by the title. ;) Short and sweet (and staying PG-13).

* * *

**Back to Basics**

Why was it that Cristina's boyfriends always had to be buddies with someone she couldn't stand? First it was Burke and George. And now, it was Owen and Alex. At least Bambi was easily intimidated. Evil Spawn was another matter.

At first, she thought it was just Owen taking Alex under his wing – especially with Izzie still recovering from the latest surgery at the hospital. Even though Alex would put on a brave face whenever he went to visit her, Cristina could tell it was hard on him. She was secretly surprised that he was sticking by her, considering the fact that Alex hadn't ever really been the faithful and dependable type.

So, when Owen started to invite Alex over to their apartment, she didn't say anything because she knew what he was going through. But then, a similar pattern of bromance began to emerge: they started jogging together (something Cristina absolutely refused to be a part of), bringing each other coffee at work (though, Owen at least always made sure to get her one as well), and having inside jokes (which was annoying, since they'd break into a fit of laughter whenever she asked about it). It was getting slightly ridiculous – and if Cristina was honest with herself, she was a little jealous. On the one hand, she was glad that Owen was feeling better these days, thanks to his sessions with Dr. Wyatt; but the possibility of having Evil Spawn be a constant presence in her life was not something she wanted. She could only take him in tiny, miniscule doses – her sympathy and tolerance had a limit.

Cristina knew that if she told Owen, he would immediately stop asking Alex over. That was the thing with Owen: he always put her first, which was why she would feel extremely guilty in asking him to hanging out with someone who he obviously was bonding with. And Owen didn't have that many friends: it took him a while to warm up to people – and he needed friends. Cristina could understand that – she, of all people, knew the importance of having a friend. And with Derek and Meredith off on their honeymoon, Cristina knew that Owen needed some male companionship.

It wasn't as though she felt like she was being neglected – the way she'd felt with Burke and George. Far from it. Owen was attentive and loving as always, sneaking her away into the vent room or some empty on-call room to kiss her at work when he went too long without seeing her or cooking her food so that she'd stop eating take-out all the time. He even took her out dancing a few times, just for the chance to see her all dressed up and be able to hold her close.

No, Owen was still his usual sweet and caring self. It was just that she was worried that this new bond between Owen and Alex would eventually make _her _the third wheel. And though she knew that his fear was rather foolish and baseless, she wasn't going to take any chances. Plus, it was already getting unbearable seeing Alex give her a smug look whenever Owen put him on his service; and Alex never failed to mention the fact that Owen had alluded to the fact that Alex was the one to watch.

And this was why she was now in their apartment wearing an insanely seductive getup of lacy lingerie, which didn't leave much to the imagination, with her hair pulled up in a low bun to expose her neck and awaiting Owen and Alex to return to the apartment from their jog. (Owen had already called her earlier to tell her that Alex would be with him and to ask if she wanted him to get her anything for breakfast.) She was even wearing siren red stilettos to offset the sheer black teddy. Yes, she intended to make Owen drool.

Cristina could hear a jingling sound from the other side of the door and knew that Owen was trying to find his key. She immediately went to the door and opened it partway. Owen dropped the bag of bagels in shock, and Alex let out a low wolf whistle.

Cristina rolled her eyes and focused her attention back on Owen, who was still speechless with his keychain dangling on his finger. His blue eyes took in the fiery red shoes, the skintight black teddy, and her bare neck. He finally realized that his girlfriend was indeed standing before him, semi-naked, in plain view of Alex. He abruptly turned around, nearing knocking Alex off balance, and said curtly, "Sorry, Karev. I forgot I had a prior engagement this morning. Enjoy the bagels." Owen gestured to the bag at his feet.

Alex snorted in response. "Whatever. I'll see you at the hospital. Enjoy your 'engagement,'" he said, sarcastically. "Nice rack, Yang," he yelled as he walked away, bag in hand. Cristina rolled her eyes again.

Without looking back, Owen quickly entered the apartment and kicked the door shut behind him. Cristina immediately wrapped her arms around his neck and pressed her body against his, not caring that he was still sweaty from his jog. Owen hoisted her up in his arms, and Cristina wrapped her legs around his waist.

"Was that really necessary?" Owen asked, as he carried her towards the bedroom. "Not that I don't appreciate the view, but I would really prefer it if Karev didn't also get to see it."

Cristina laughed. "Hey, he can look, but only you get to touch."

Owen smiled. "I certainly do like the sound of that," he replied and proceeded to do just that.


	19. A Reunion for the Closet Romantics

**Author's Note**: As requested by ohcyfan, here is a (slightly longer) melodramatic take on the reunion of Cristina and Owen – because though it is over the top and highly romanticized, some of us could really use a smile during this hiatus. And as always, please leave reviews (so I don't feel like I'm writing to some anonymous sea of people when I do these author's notes). ;)

* * *

**A Reunion for the Closet Romantics**

Time has been both an enemy and a friend. It has allowed them to heal but also to yearn – and they both yearned for each other, desperately. The longing glances and the merest grazes are no longer capable of satisfying their desires. They have tasted the fruit of true passion, and they could no longer return to the innocent Garden of Eden.

Her friends are unrelenting in trying to keep them apart because they cannot fathom the possibility that this is love. And so this modern day Romeo is denied his Juliet, relegated to stolen moments when the princess is not chaperoned. But unlike that classic love story, this one does not end in tragedy. Due to the honeyed words of a fellow knight – a knight with hair that rivals that of a Greek god, the two protectors of Cristina's virtue finally relent and open the drawbridge into the metaphorical fortress that they had built.

And in that moment, Cristina and Owen go to each other as a moth to a flame. They embrace, oblivious to their surroundings, and profess their love for each other in softly spoken tones – words that are immediately tucked away and cherished. This is the moment that all star-crossed lovers hope to get – the chance to finally make their souls complete. The epic joining of yin and yang.

He holds her tightly in his arms and tells her that he's a changed man – a less damaged man – and she looks into his eyes and sees that this is the truth. The shadows are nearly gone, and she recognizes the man who had first swept her off her feet, literally and figuratively, and pulled the icicle out of her chest. In other words, the moment that Cupid had shot his arrow into both their hearts.

Oblivious to the flurry of hospital staff buzzing around them like curious bees, they kiss passionately as they've never done before – a reunion of the lips that is fraught with the pent up emotions they've been holding inside while they were apart. Even Bailey, one who has never condoned the intermingling of one's personal and professional life, is astounded by the love she sees emanating from them like a newborn sun. And not a single eye is dry or tear-free – male or female.

The lovebirds finally pause to catch their breaths, feeling as though they haven't breathed freely in a long time. They're lost in each other's eyes, soaking in the feeling of their hearts beating in a harmonious rhythm. Ba-dum. Ba-dum. A songbird calling for its mate.

Suddenly, the applause of the enraptured audience shocks them back down to earth. But instead of feeling embarrassed or ashamed, they can only feel joy. So, they laugh – laughing in a way that has eluded them for some time.

And because he's too happy to care about maintaining his reputation as a stalwart soldier and because the love of his life is finally back in his arms, the knight dips his lady over one arm and proceeds to kiss her once more.

(And they lived happily ever after.)


	20. Naughty Nurses

**Author's Note**: Inspired by the prompt [stethoscopes and stilettos] from the In_The_After LJ community hiatus survival guide fanfiction challenge. And yes, this is going to be for adults' eyes only. References to "Bring the Pain" (episode 2x05) are made. Don't forget to leave a review – in this case, silence is not golden – and thanks to those who have. It is definitely keeping me going. :) [P.S. This ended being a lot longer than I had thought it would be. So, I apologize for the length.]

* * *

**Naughty Nurses**

Ever since Cristina had seen the interest light up in Owen's eyes upon hearing her story of the patient who needed porn as a pain reliever, she had known what his anniversary present was going to be. Although, Owen was just going to have to be satisfied with one naughty nurse instead of three – not that she was at all worried about him not being satisfied. Cristina Yang certainly knew how to satisfy a man, especially this man.

She stood in front of the bathroom mirror and put on the finishing touches of her makeup as she waited for Owen to get come from him shift at the hospital. She ran her hand across the back of her neck, searching for any stray curls that may have escaped from the low bun she'd tamed her mane of hair into. Cristina stepped back from the mirror to cast a final look at her outfit. Her breasts were seated high in the lacy cups of her crimson red bra, nearly spilling out of the bodice of the nurse's outfit. The white material clung to her curves and ended just below her ass. She'd even gone through the trouble of putting on sheer garterless, thigh-high stockings. And on her feet were her stripper shoes: siren red stilettos that made men instantly think of sex. The only part of the costume that she refused to wear was the ridiculous nurse's hat. Cristina did not wear hats. And plus, knowing Owen's affinity for her wild mess of ebony curls, anything that covered her hair was bound to be removed within seconds.

Suddenly, Cristina heard the sound of keys jingling and the door being opened. She grabbed the stethoscope off the bathroom counter and walked into the bedroom.

Owen, who was still in the living room trying to find something for the flowers he'd gotten for Cristina. He knew that she wasn't really a flowers type of woman; but his mother had instilled in him the belief that a man should always bring his lady flowers on special occasions. And on the plus side, he knew better to get her roses and had opted instead for bright orange wildflowers that had a little bit of a quirkiness to them.

"Hey, Cristina," he yelled as he finally found a dusty old vase (probably a gift from Cristina's mother) that had been haphazardly shoved under the sink. "Sorry I'm late. Just let me change out of this T-shirt, and we can go to dinner. Or watch the movie. Which do you want to do first?"

Owen rinsed the vase, filled it with water, and then plopped the handful of flowers into it. Looking around for a moment, he finally set the vase down in the center of the coffee table, figuring that she could both see it and not have it in her way. He took off his coat and hung it on the back of the dining room chair then proceeded towards their bedroom while removing his shirt.

"Cristina?" he called, with his olive green shirt blocking his vision as he lifted it over his head. The moment it was off, Owen stopped in his tracks.

Sitting on the edge of the dresser was one very not-dressed-for-dinner Cristina. Her long slender legs were crossed and her hands braced against the surface on either side of her, causing her chest to be pushed forward. He took in the familiar Red Cross logo printed on the right side of the dress near her collarbone, the matching high heels that were swaying slightly in the air as she patiently waited for him to look his fill, and the stethoscope that hung around her neck. Who knew that stethoscopes could such a turn-on? Granted, it was more the woman wearing it than the actual instrument – but Owen had a feeling that he would never look at a stethoscope in the same way again.

Cristina was also giving Owen the once-over herself. As Owen stared at her in an appreciative manner, Cristina was secretly admiring the sight of his bare, muscular chest and the giveaway bulge in his jeans – as she had predicted, Owen was definitely turned on at the idea of having his own personal naughty nurse.

"I was thinking that we could make our own movie," Cristina said in a suggestive tone, responding to the question he had asked earlier.

Owen shook his head as if coming out of a daze. "Uh… What?" he asked, his gaze pausing at her breasts before meeting her eyes.

"I said, 'I was thinking that we could make our own movie,'" Cristina repeated, gesturing at the other side of the bedroom.

Following the direction of Cristina's finger, Owen saw the digital camcorder Cristina had set up earlier in preparation for the evening's festivities and gave a low chuckle. Apparently his initial reaction to Cristina's outfit would forever be imprinted on a memory card as the red light was already flashing.

"And what's the title of our movie going to be?" he asked, going along with her game as he moved closer to her.

"'Nasty Naughty Nurses 5,'" she said with a twinkle in her eye.

Owen stepped even closer, his jeans grazing her legs. "Any guest appearances by Crystal, Bianca, or Marta?" he asked, leaning forward so that his hands were braced on the dresser, resting just outside of hers, and his lips were mere inches away from her jaw line. They were so close that Cristina could feel his warm breath skim across her skin as she automatically tilted her head to one side to give him better access.

"No. It's just you and me," she whispered, sighing as his beard tickled the side of her neck as he placed soft kisses there, stopping as he reached the rubber of the stethoscope.

"Good," he replied. "I don't like sharing."

Cristina put both her hands on his bare chest, her fingers reveling at the warmth emanating from his skin, and stopped him from going any further. Owen obliged and took a step back, letting Cristina take the lead. Plus, it gave him a better vantage point to admire her body. Cristina's hands drifted downward towards the front of his jeans, and her deft fingers made quick work of his fly. Within seconds, Owen stood naked in front of her, his massive erection pressing against her stomach as he pulled her in for a kiss. One hand cupped her face and the other rested on the curve of her ass as Owen nibbled on her bottom lip. Cristina smiled coyly against his lips and pushed him onto the bed.

Owen settled into the pillows, his hands interlaced beneath his head, and grinned as Cristina followed him onto the bed and straddled his thighs.

"You missed," he said, taking his hands from underneath his head with the intention of improving her aim.

Cristina shook her head. "No touching. I'm the nurse, and you're the patient. Keep your hands to yourself."

Owen chuckled in acceptance, returning to his earlier position, and waited for her next move.

Cristina rose onto her knees – the ball of her shoes braced against the mattress – and took the stethoscope from around her neck. She breathed warm air across the cool metal surface and placed it on his chest. Owen let out a whoosh of air as the metal touched his skin, the chestpiece still drastically colder than the temperature of his skin.

Cristina could hear the steady beat of his heart. "Hmm…" she said. "Your heart is beating a little fast. Cardiac arrhythmia, perhaps?"

Owen scoffed. Cardiac arrhythmia his ass. She knew exactly what the cause of his racing pulse was.

Owen laughed in response and nodded. "Whatever you say. My life is in your hands."

Cristina shifted backwards so that her face with level with his erection. She wrapped both of her small hands around him – one atop of the other – and grazed the tip with her plush lips. Apparently, it wasn't enough that his life was in her hands – Cristina wanted more.

Owen nearly came off the bed at the touch of her tongue against his cock. Cristina opened her palms and licked him from base to head before taking him into her mouth again. Her hands move up and down, and Owen couldn't help but move his hips. Cristina removed one hand and braced it against the bed so that she could take him deeper into her mouth. She could feel the tension building in Owen's body as he approached his release and stopped before he went teetering over the edge. Owen let out a groan of frustration. Unwilling to play the patient any longer and letting her have the upper hand, Owen sat upright and pulled her towards him. Cristina automatically wrapped her legs around his waist and ran her hands through his tousled hair. Owen placed his arms beneath her ass – his lips fused with hers – and lifted her high enough so that he could swing his legs over the edge of the bed. In one fluid motion, he stood up and turned, plopping her butt back onto the bed.

"New roles," Owen said huskily. "I'm the doctor, and you're the naughty nurse who has a thing for MDs."

Considering the fact that Cristina did indeed have a thing for this MD, she didn't mind the change in roles. She gave Owen a sultry look, befitting of a woman turned on by doctors, and moved her legs slightly apart – her feet flat on the ground, thanks to the 3 inch heels. Owen grabbed the stethoscope from the nightstand, piquing Cristina's curiosity, and knelt down in front of her. Without warming the chestpiece first, Owen placed the cold metal on the inner thigh area near her knee. The shock of something so cold sent a shiver through her body as Owen slowly slid it higher and higher up her leg. He left a trail of feathery light kisses on the other side of her thigh, parallel to the path of the chestpiece. Another shiver went through her body as he transitioned from stocking to skin. As Owen reached the start of her dress, he stopped and tossed the instrument aside.

"Time for your annual checkup," he said, motioning for her to open her legs wider.

Cristina obliged, as any woman would do in her situation, and moved her legs further apart to grant him access. Owen slid his hands on either side of her legs and pushed the skirt of her dress up, surprised when he didn't see the lace he had been expecting.

"Cristina, you're not wearing any panties. You really _are _naughty."

"Saucy, too," she said with a purr.

Owen slid a finger inside her and flicked her clit with his tongue. She was already wet from all the foreplay, so Owen inserted another finger into her slick pussy. Cristina fell back towards the bed, bracing her weight on her elbows – her hands clutching at the sheets. She lifted her legs off the floor and rested them on his broad shoulders, perching a little further off the edge of the bed. Owen could feel the leather of her shoes graze his back every once in a while as she subtly thrust her hips against his tongue and fingers. Owen used his free hand to caress her breast through the thin materials of the dress and bra, squeezing gently and driving her slowly insane.

And just as Cristina had stopped abruptly before his climax, Owen did the same to her. Owen gradually rose to his feet, catching her legs with his elbows before lowering them back to the ground. He pulled Cristina forward so that she was sitting upright and impatiently tore at the bodice, causing a few buttons to pop off. "I'll buy you another one," he muttered in a form of apology and pulled the fabric down to her waist. Her bra followed.

Owen undid her bun, letting her hair cascade down her back, and clenched a fist in the sea of curls as he gently tugged her head back so that he could kiss her. He leaned down and met her awaiting lips, their tongues dancing around each other. Ending the passionate kiss with a soft peck, he lifted Cristina to her feet.

"Kneel on the bed and face the camera," he said, turning her around. Cristina did as she was told – apparently, Owen was taking this moviemaking business very seriously. Owen lifted one knee onto the bed to get better leverage and slipped inside of her. He wrapped one arm around her and used his free hand to move her hair to one side – all the while moving in and out of her at an excruciatingly slow pace. Drawing back his lips, Owen bit down gently at the base of her neck, not hard enough to hurt but enough to make her catch her breath. Cristina reached behind her to run her fingers through his hair, almost cradling his head within her arm. Owen soothed the love bite with his tongue, sealing it with a kiss. Letting go of her hair, he moved his hand down the front of her: starting from the upper swell of her breast, brushing against her nipple, over her navel, and finally reaching her clit.

Cristina could feel the beginning tides of an orgasm course through her body as Owen picked up the tempo, his fingers and hips moving in a pleasure-inducing duet. Owen clutched her tighter against his chest, grunting into her ear. Cristina's moans of intensifying ecstasy echoed throughout the room with each thrust. At last, Owen could feel Cristina climax around him, spurring him to come inside her.

Spent and exhausted, they fell forward onto the plush mattress. Owen lay beside her, reaching across and tucking her hair behind her ear to uncover her face. Cristina turned to face him, taking his hand in hers and pressing her lips against his palm.

After a while, Cristina finally spoke up. With a mischievous look on her face, she said, "Let's watch it."

As his body stirred with renewed interest, Owen knew that this anniversary present was the gift that would keep on giving.


	21. Curveballs Part I

**Author's Note**: First of all, thank you for all who have been leaving me reviews! My goodness, I wouldn't write these if it weren't for all of you. Anyways, this story involves a theory that is based on a spoiler comment, so be forewarned if you don't like spoilers.

**Dedication**: This is dedicated to Mary and Mari. I hope you guys like it. :)

* * *

**Curveballs**

At first, Cristina attributed her symptoms to having a broken heart. She felt sick to her stomach every time she remembered that she and Owen were no longer together, and seeing him at work looking so solemn tore at her because she knew that she'd failed him. She had promised him her strength, but she had overestimated her limits. It pained her that her body and mind could not obey her heart – because her heart wanted desperately to be by his side while her body wouldn't permit it to happen.

They tried to remain professional, but their gaze would linger just a moment too long or their gloved hands would pause for a second as they exchanged surgical tools. Whenever she'd happen to be on his trauma service, she always subconsciously drew near him, reveling in the proximity of his body so close to hers. It was both temptation and torture – to look but not touch.

So, when she started to feel slightly lightheaded and nauseous while heading over to the ER, Cristina just brushed it off as being nerves due to the fact she was on Owen's trauma service. Without even a thought towards the significance of the gesture, Cristina pulled the hair tie from her wrist and put her hair up in a messy bun. Owen's eyes caught hers from across the room while her hand was still on her hair, and Cristina froze for a moment. His gaze drifted down towards her neck briefly before coming back up to meet hers, and Cristina unconsciously touched the back of her neck. Realizing where her hand was in conjunction with who she was looking at, Cristina immediately dropped her hand to her side and broke eye contact. She busied herself with getting a yellow surgical gown, quickly and efficiently tying the ties behind her neck and back.

With her eyes still slightly averted, she approached Owen and asked, "So, what do we have?"

Owen paused for a moment, wanting to find the right words to get rid of the awkwardness between them. Wanting to tell her that he was seeing Dr. Wyatt regularly for therapy – though he still felt uncomfortable talking about himself and Iraq. That he had been going to the sleep lab and having tests done so that she never had to be afraid of sleeping in his arms again. That every day, he was getting closer and closer to being whole and healthy, mentally and physically. Closer to being the man that had swept her off her feet and spontaneously kissed her senseless after only knowing her for a few hours – but now so much more in love and willing to prove just how much for the rest of their lives. But instead, he cleared his throat and said, "Fistfight at some bridal store that was having a sale."

Cristina's lips instantly drew into a smile in response, causing Owen's heart to skip a beat – he had missed her smiles. Even more so, he missed being the one to make her smile.

If this was before, she would have probably made some snarky comment about women and wedding dresses. But it wasn't before, and they weren't there anymore; so, Cristina kept any commentary to herself, and they stood there in mutual silence as they awaited the paramedics to wheel in the patient. _But at least she smiled_, Owen thought to himself, grasping onto the tiniest sign of hope that things would get better.

***

Minutes later, Owen and Cristina were tending to two best friends – well, two _former_ best friends – who had gotten into a fight over a particular wedding dress. Their argument had escalated to the point where Owen finally closed the curtain between them, hoping that the thin separation of fabric would deter any further yelling – and throwing. It stopped the latter but not the former, and Owen's ears were starting to ring. For once, he wished that Karev was here instead of Cristina since he was in dire need of someone to tell his patients to shut the hell up. And though Cristina was probably chomping at the bit to do just that, Owen had never seen her yell at a patient – no matter how tempting it was. And Owen would do it himself, but he had been raised to never disrespect a woman like that.

Callie sat on a stool beside one of the women's gurney and checked her hand gingerly for any fractures. The woman's hand was red from having punched her friend in the face.

"I can't believe you punched me!" the voice called out from behind the curtain, this being the third time she said it – or rather, yelled it.

"You deserved it, you hag. That was totally _my _dress. _I _saw it first! You aren't even _engaged _yet. Why the hell do you need a wedding dress anyways?" Callie's patient screamed, nearly blowing out Callie's eardrums.

Cristina, who was tending to the "hag" – or Joanna, according to her medical insurance card, calmly said, "Keep the ice pack on your nose, ma'am." The patient placed the ice pack back on her, having temporarily removed it in order to yell at the other woman. Owen, sparing a sidelong glance at Cristina in the hopes to silently convey his thanks, noticed Cristina pinching the bridge of her nose and taking a few deep breaths. Owen could see the color fading from her cheeks. He set down the patient's charts and moved closer towards her, his arms ready to catch her should she faint.

"Dr. Yang, are you okay?" he asked, purposely addressing her in such a formal manner since Callie was just a few feet away.

Callie, still the tiniest bit on edge whenever Owen was near Cristina – though she could tell that the man was still clearly in love with her roommate and knew that he was genuinely a decent man, quickly drew back the curtain to see what was wrong.

"Cristina?" she said, rolling closer to her friend while still seated atop the stool.

Cristina stretched out her hand, stopping Callie from coming any closer. "Oh god," Cristina muttered. "I think I'm going to throw up." With that, she clamped one hand over her mouth, threw the packet of gauze into Owen's outstretched hands, and ran towards to nearest bathroom.

Owen instinctively caught the packet in his arms and watched Cristina's retreating back with concern. Once she was gone from view, he looked back towards Callie, who shared a similar look of shock mixed with worry. Callie could see that Owen was torn between the need to check up on Cristina and his professional duty as the Head of Trauma to remain in the ER. Callie took pity on him and nodded towards the hallway that Cristina had disappeared into. "Go. I'll take care of these two."

Owen, taken aback by the change in attitude towards him – but in a good way, gave her nod of thanks and went after Cristina.

***

_Oh crap, oh crap, oh crap, oh crap, oh crap_, Cristina repeated in a mantra inside her head as she pulled down on the handle to flush the toilet. She slowly got off the floor, bracing herself against the stall and tearing off a long piece of toilet paper to wipe her mouth with. Cristina walked over to the sink and turned on the water. Cupping her hands beneath the stream, she lowered her head and took a sip to wash out the acrid taste in her mouth. After gurgling a few times, Cristina splashed her face with the cold water then blindly reached for the nearby paper towel dispenser to dry off her face. Throwing the wad of paper into the trash, she shut off the water and hung her head over the basin as she thought about what this all meant. The last time she had puked, it had been because she was pregnant. Cristina lifted up the hem of her scrub top and undershirt to look at her bare stomach, staring at the curve of her stomach to see if it was rounder than usual – not that she really expected to see anything at this stage, but she felt the need to try anyways. No matter how hard she glared, she could not see any perceptible difference. She didn't _feel_ pregnant. But then again, she hadn't felt pregnant the last time either. She placed one hand on her stomach – still nothing.

She let her top fall back down and glanced at her watch. Only a few hours until the end of her shift. A few hours until she could go to the nearby supermarket and buy a handful of pregnancy tests. If she was pregnant, it was going to take more than one test to convince her. She only had one fallopian tube – and she was on birth control. What was it with her and getting pregnant? For someone who was nowhere near ready to be a "mommy", her body was one serious baby-making machine. Or, the men she slept with had some seriously strong swimmers.

"Cristina, are you okay?"

Cristina jumped, startled out of her reverie by the sound of Owen's voice from behind the woman's bathroom door. Cristina quickly glanced at her reflection to make sure that none of her hair was stuck to her forehead and that she no longer looked ill before opening the door to greet Owen with a falsely calm look of reassurance.

"I'm fine," she said, acting as if she _always_ ran out in the middle of treating a patient to go puke her brains out.

Owen looked at her dubiously. "Are you sure?" he asked softly, desperately wanting to hold her in his arms and check her vitals to see what was wrong. Even though she looked fine now, Owen wanted to order her on bed rest. He knew it was irrational and that he was overreacting; but, Owen had always tended to feel a little overprotective when it came to Cristina.

"Yes. I must have caught some bug," Cristina replied nonchalantly, when secretly she was freaking out. "I'm fine. See? Let's go back to the future bridezillas." Cristina gave him a crooked smirk then walked past him, back towards the pit. Owen followed behind her, not believing a word she said but reluctantly accepting the fact that he'd have to wait for her to tell him the truth – if she ever did. Cristina had always been good at keeping secrets – it was one of the things he loved about her, since he valued his privacy and detested gossip; though it was at times like these that he found that attribute of hers frustrating.

***

"Are you even listening to me?" Meredith asked, waving a hand in front of Cristina's face to get her attention.

Cristina snapped out of her stupor and turned to Meredith. "I'm sorry, what?"

"What the hell is wrong with you? Ever since I got here, you've been out of it. What were you doing before? Did you hit your head or something?"

"No," Cristina replied. _I found out that positively, absolutely pregnant. Unless all three of the pregnancy tests were wrong_, she thought. Instead, she said, changing the topic, "Why are you over here anyways? Shouldn't you be asking McDreamy about all of this? Or Izzie?"

Meredith groaned in frustration. "First of all, I can't really ask Derek to write my vows for me. Second, Izzie wanted me to at least come up with a rough draft first before she'd read over it. She called it 'homework.' Psh. What is it? School? And last of all, you're my maid of honor. And my person. So, if I have to do suffer through this, so do you." Meredith stared at the blank page in front of her, willing the words to come out. "What was I thinking? Dark and twisty people do _not_ agree to write their own wedding vows. Especially when they're marrying men who propose in elevators. How am I supposed to compete with that? Do you think he'll notice if I find a really good one from the internet and just change the names?"

Meredith turned to Cristina and saw that the other woman was once again not paying attention. Even though she wanted to yell at her, Meredith knew that Cristina had been having a hard time since she and Owen had broken up. At first, she had been relieved. It wasn't that she thought Owen was a terrible guy; deep down, she knew he wasn't. Ever since the moment she had walked in on them in the on-call room and had seen Owen sleeping atop of Cristina – and Cristina actually letting him, she had secretly been studying him whenever he and Cristina were in the same room. She had caught the way his face would soften whenever Cristina entered a room or the subtle manner in which he'd move closer to her. And until the choking incident, she had been grateful to Owen for making her friend happy – and for helping Cristina to finally move on from the pain Burke had caused. But then Owen had caused her pain – conscious or not – and it wasn't something Meredith could easily forget or forgive.

She wasn't really angry at him anymore, especially since Derek had told her about Owen seeking treatment for his PTSD. The army doctor was obviously trying to fix himself, and Meredith suspected that it was mainly for Cristina – it hadn't escaped her notice that he'd asked Derek for help around the same time Cristina had broken up with him. But Meredith was fiercely protective of the people she cared about, and Owen had a lot to make up for before Meredith would completely trust him.

Meredith sighed and put down the pen and paper, sensing that she wouldn't get any help from Cristina until she found out the cause of all this distraction.

"Cristina," Meredith said in a gentler tone than before, "what is it? And don't tell me it's because I'm boring you with all this wedding stuff. Because I know _that_'s not it. So, just tell me."

Cristina, having turned her attention back to Meredith upon hearing her name, took a moment to try and find the right way to tell Meredith that she was pregnant – again. She hadn't told her that she had slept with Owen; and in all honesty, it was mostly because she didn't want to hear Meredith say anything to ruin that memory. Not knowing how else to say it, Cristina finally settled on being straightforward.

"I'm pregnant." Cristina looked at Meredith, her body involuntarily tensing up for the yelling that she knew would soon follow.

"What?" Meredith said loudly, as if she were deaf and hadn't heard Cristina properly.

"I'm pregnant," Cristina repeated.

"Who's the father?" Meredith asked, immediately feeling like an idiot for even asking. Cristina gave her a pointed look. Of course Meredith knew who the father was. "G.I. Joe? You _had _G.I. Joe, and you didn't tell me? When was this? It couldn't have been that recent, could it? I haven't been _that_ caught up in all this wedding stuff, have I?" Meredith paused for a moment to think, and then it hit her. "Oh my god, _you_ had sex with Hunt right before you broke up with him? Cristina, how could you not tell me?"

Cristina stared at Meredith in confusion. "I slept with G.I. Joe, and the only thing you're hung up on is the fact that I didn't tell you earlier?" Cristina placed the back of her hand against Meredith's forehead before Meredith swatted it away. "Is this wedding thing getting to you?"

"What do you want me to say? That you're an idiot for sleeping with a guy right after he nearly killed you? Fine, you're an idiot. But nothing I say is going to change the fact that he knocked you up. Does he know?"

Cristina scoffed in response. "No. I just found out right before you got here. Plus, what would I say? 'Hi, I know I broke up with you and that we haven't really talked to each other since. But by the way, I'm pregnant.' He's still wounded, Mer. I don't know if he could handle it."

"He has the right to know. And Derek says he's been doing a lot better lately, especially with Dr. Wyatt. See, I told you she's a good psychiatrist."

Cristina tilted her head at Meredith in surprise. "You've been checking up on Owen?"

"Of course. It's obvious you still care about him. And you're my person. So _of course_ I'm going to keep tabs on the guy my person's in love with – because there is no way I'm going to let him get close to you again until he gets his head screwed on straight."

"You know, I can't believe I'm saying this, but I think this engagement with McDreamy is making you into a better person. It's sort-of freaking me out."

Meredith laughed. "I know. It sort-of freaks me out, too. But anyways, I can't believe you're pregnant – again. It's called birth control, Cristina."

"I _was _on the pill. Give me some credit. I _am _a doctor, you know. But seriously. What is it with me and getting pregnant? I have only _one _fallopian tube _and _I was on the pill. Imagine if I hadn't been using birth control. He probably would've gotten me pregnant just by looking at me. The man puts the 'sex' in 'eye sex.' Oh my god, what am I going to do? I'm going to be the stupid, fat, hormonal pregnant chick who got knocked up by her boss – again. It's like Burke all over again. Except that this time _I_ did the breaking up – but still, we aren't even together anymore." Cristina threw her head back against the couch and covered her eyes with her arm. "What am I going to do?"

Meredith moved closer to Cristina, put her head on her shoulder, and wrapped an arm around her – just as she had the last time Cristina was pregnant.

"You know this constitutes hugging?" Cristina asked.

Meredith smiled. Apparently Cristina also remembered. And just as she did once before, Meredith replied, "Shut up. I'm your person."

(To Be Continued…)


	22. Curveballs Part II

**Author's Note**: Thanks for all the reviews! I really appreciate you guys taking the time to leave me one. Here's the conclusion of _Curveballs_ – Bon appétit!

**Dedication**: This is dedicated to Mary and Mari. I hope you guys like it. :)

* * *

**Curveballs Part II**

"Are you going to keep it this time?" Meredith asked quietly as they lay in Cristina's bed, staring at the ceiling fan, after having finally scribbled down a few bullet points of what Meredith wanted to say in her vows. They would leave the actual writing and mushy stuff for Izzie, since neither of them was really good at writing romantically.

Cristina paused to think about it. "I don't know," she finally admitted.

"I think you do," Meredith countered.

"What do you mean?"

"Well, when Burke got you pregnant, you knew that you weren't going to keep it. But now, you're seriously contemplating going through with this, aren't you?"

Cristina _was_ actually thinking about possibly keeping the baby. Baby – she'd never allowed herself to think of the tiny little thing growing inside her as a "baby" before. It had always been just "it." But now, the pregnancy seemed more and more real to her: she could potentially be a mother – and that scared the hell out of her.

Logically, there were almost no reasons for her to follow through with this pregnancy either: she and Owen weren't together; she was still in her second year of residency; and she was still terrified at the idea of taking care of a child.

But, Cristina unconsciously moved a protective hand over her stomach – a movement that caught Meredith's eye and gave Meredith the answer to her previous question. Meredith placed a hand atop of hers, startling Cristina into realizing what she had done involuntarily, and shifted her head closer. "I think you should tell him, Cristina. Even though he's not my favorite person in the world, he should be a part of your decision."

Cristina stared back at the ceiling fan, absorbing Meredith's words. Considering the fact that this was coming from a woman who knew a thing or two about daddy issues, she took her advice to heart.

***

Cristina paced back and forth in front of the lockers, muttering to herself as she debated as to how she was going to tell Owen. She unwrapped the scarf from around her neck and carelessly threw it inside her locker without missing a step. Cristina's hands danced around in the air as she rehearsed what she was going to say. Finally, she gave up on preparing beforehand and changed into her scrubs.

Cristina had purposely gotten in a little early so that she could go down to the pit and tell Owen before her shift. Also, if she was completely honest, she needed the excuse of having to go to work as her escape route. She knew it was a really wimpy thing to do, but it was the only way she could muster up the courage to tell him.

She saw him sitting in his office, typing away at the computer. On the one hand, she was grateful that he was alone – it wasn't like she wanted everyone in the hospital to know that she was pregnant _again_. (And the gossip-happy hospital staff would have a field day with this juicy tidbit.) On the other hand, it made her even more nervous because it meant that there was no one there to distract him.

Before rounding the corner, she took a deep breath then made her way to his door. Purposely choosing not to go past the doorway, Cristina lightly knocked on his door. Owen looked up, and Cristina silently took note of the fact that he hadn't jumped at the sound. A tiny sliver of hope crept into her heart as she saw this as a sign of him getting better. Owen slowly turned his body towards her, treating her as though she were some frightened animal that could be scared away by the slightest sudden movement.

Cristina cleared her throat and ignored the butterflies – huge, mutant, overactive butterflies – in her stomach. "Um, I finished the post-ops for the patients that came in during my last night. The future bridezilla requested Dr. Sloan to fix her nose. The ER seems to be swamped with traumas today. Must be the idiots who are practicing for the Dead Baby Bike Race. And I'm pregnant." The words rolled out of her mouth like a train that couldn't be stopped. But at the last sentence, Cristina stopped to gauge Owen's reaction.

Owen had been listening intently to what Cristina was saying, curious as to why she had approached him. Upon hearing the words "I'm pregnant," Owen's mouth dropped ever so slightly in shock. Not sure that he had heard correctly, he leaned forward and asked, "What?"

Cristina couldn't look him in the eye and instead focused on the ID tag that was clipped to his lab coat pocket. "Uh, I'm pregnant." Cristina paused for a moment before sneaking a look back up at him.

He didn't _look_ scared shitless – she guessed that that was a good sign. Before Owen could completely process this curveball that Cristina had just thrown at him, she glanced at her watch and feigned surprise. "Damn. I'm late for rounds. Bailey's going to kill me, so I better go. Wouldn't want to anger her and get sent to the clinic." She gave Owen a brief, overly bright Izzie-like smile and quickly walked away.

"Cristina!" Owen yelled after her, after gathering his wits about him, not caring about the fact that he drew curious stares in his direction. He hastily got up from his chair and went after her retreating figure. Though she was much tinier than him, she could apparently move considerably faster than he'd expected; and Owen didn't catch up to her until she'd reached the locker room where the rest of her friends were waiting for Bailey to come in with their assignments.

As Cristina disappeared behind the locker room door, Owen saw Bailey approaching. He quickly intercepted the much shorter woman.

"Dr. Bailey, I know that Karev was assigned to my service today. But I'd like to request Dr. Yang instead."

Bailey gave him a pointed look. "Wasn't Yang on your service yesterday? Why do you need her twice in a row?"

For such a small woman, she certainly knew how to stare down a man. Owen knew that the fact that he was her superior really didn't mean anything in this hospital – Bailey even intimidated the Chief at times. Instead, he chose to use the tactic that she had once used on him. "I'm saying 'please,' here, Dr. Bailey."

Bailey rolled her eyes, figuring that she technically still owed him for sending him off after Shepherd, and sighed. "Fine. But only because I was going to give Karev visit with Izzie today. Don't think I didn't see what you did there, Dr. Hunt."

"Thank you, Dr. Bailey," Owen said, not moving from the wall beside the locker room door.

"What? Are you going to stand there and wait for her to come out?" Bailey asked.

A look of determination flashed across Owen's face. "Yes."

Bailey just shook her head, not even wanting to know what was going on. She had raised her babies. And now it was time they took care of themselves. Though, she secretly admitted herself, she would step in if she felt the need to. They were still her babies after all.

***

"Did you tell him?" Meredith whispered to Cristina as she removed her wool coat and hung it in her locker.

Cristina gave a sidelong glance at George and Alex to see that they weren't paying attention before answering. "Yes, but I kind spilled the beans then ran out on him."

"You what?" Meredith replied, a little too loud.

"Can it, Mer. What? Do you want everyone to know?"

"Sorry. I just can't believe you ran. You are such a wimp."

"God, I know. I'm already turning into a sap. Estrogen, Meredith."

"No, it's the stupid boy penis. Anyways, what are you going to do? Avoid him all day?"

"No. Yes. I don't know. At least I'm not on trauma today. I'd even take clinic duty right about now."

"Cristina, you…" Meredith started. But just then, Bailey walked in and all conversations halted as the residents awaited their assignments.

"O'Malley, you've got clinic today. Grey, you're with Shepherd. Yang, trauma. And Karev, you're with me," Bailey announced.

Cristina got up from the bench, feeling like she was about to hyperventilate. "Uh, Dr. Bailey. I'm not on trauma today. I was on trauma yesterday."

Alex briefly shot Cristina a curious glance, never having known her to say no to trauma. Not that he cared why she was saying no. He was just glad that he wouldn't have to be in the pit all day, since he'd promised Izzie that he would play stupid board games with her during lunch.

"Well, Dr. Hunt especially requested you again. So, move it, Yang." With that, she marched right back outside, giving Owen a curt nod as she passed him. Alex also spared Owen a look – albeit, a confused one – before catching up to Bailey. Apparently, something was going on between Hunt and Yang. _Interesting_, Alex thought, storing that bit of information away for a rainy day. George walked by without ever looking up, lost in thought about some medical journal he'd been reading on skin cancer as he headed over to the clinic.

Back in the locker room, Meredith gave Cristina a sympathetic look. "Guess you can't avoid him. Page me if you need me. Being engaged to your boss has its perks." As Meredith opened the door, she caught sight of Owen's awaiting figure leaning against the opposite wall. She paused in the doorway, contemplating giving Cristina a heads up but decided against it. Judging from her earlier behavior, Cristina would probably remain holed up in the locker room all day if she knew that Owen was right outside.

So instead, she walked up to the army surgeon and wagged a finger in his face. "Look, I don't really know you, and I'm probably overstepping my boundaries over here. But Cristina's my person. And you hurt her." The look on Owen's face darkened, and his brows furrowed. Meredith continued, "But I can see that you're really trying to get your act together, and it's obvious that you love her. So, I'm going to cut you a little slack – this much." Meredith demonstrated just how little with her thumb and index finger. "But if you hurt her in any way, I will seriously kick your ass."

Meredith's finger came within millimeters of Owen's face as she emphasized her point before walking away. Although he didn't really appreciate nearly getting his eye poked out, Owen couldn't help but admire Meredith for the way she watched out for her friends – though it wasn't so fun being on the opposing side. Owen crossed his arms in front of him and waited for Cristina to emerge from the locker room. After what seemed like eternity, the door finally opened and the familiar mass of black curls greeted him.

"Cristina," Owen said, announcing his presence.

Cristina gave him a look that resembled the fear and guilt of a kid who got caught with his hand in the cookie jar. She hadn't really thought that her hit-and-run tactic would work, but she had to at least give it a shot.

Cristina knew that a second attempt of running away probably wouldn't work, but she couldn't help but scan the area looking for a supply closet to lock herself into anyways. She knew it would be a cowardly move, but she was afraid of the possibility of Owen reacting negatively. He wasn't ready for a baby. Hell, _she _wasn't ready for a baby. But on top of that, he was still in treatment; and the added stress of having a baby mama – god, she was a baby mama now – probably wasn't helpful.

Owen pushed away from the wall and approached Cristina. He unfolded his arms and silently took her arm, gently leading her into some empty on-call room. And as she had when his ex-fiancée made an appearance, Cristina resigned herself to having to face the issue.

Owen closed the door behind them; but this time, he moved closer. Hesitating a moment, Owen looked at her, wordlessly asking permission to hold her. Cristina instinctively gave an almost imperceptible nod, and Owen closed the gap between them and cupped her face so that she was looking right into his eyes.

Owen had had some time to think as he had waited for Cristina outside the locker room, so when he stared into her glistening brown eyes, there was no trace of panic or fear in his expression – only a sense of wonder and an undeniable hint of satisfaction. And if it had been any other time, Cristina probably would've made some sarcastic comment about his typically male me-Tarzan-you-Jane sense of pride in fathering a child – as if providing sperm was some heroic feat of masculinity. But she remained silent, still anxiously waiting for him to _say_ something.

"I think you're beautiful," Owen finally said. It was the first thing that popped into his mind as he held her this close for the first time in a long while. And it was true. Cristina had a subtle glow, and it took Owen's breath away. He idly played with one of her curls with one hand as he formulated his next words.

The grip on the hem Owen's scrub top relaxed, causing Owen to smile. He doubted that she even knew that she was doing so in the first place. Owen continued, speaking for the heart, "I love you, and I want to be with you for the rest of my life. I'm willing to do whatever it takes to be a man that's good enough for you – and our baby." Owen's voice slightly faltered at the reality of that word, and a tear threatened to fall out of Cristina's eye. "But I will take whatever role you're willing to give me – as long as you let me be a part of both of your lives in some way. Please, Cristina. _Please_ let me be a part of your lives."

Owen held his breath and watched the multitude of emotions that danced across Cristina's face, trying to interpret what she was thinking. As he often did with Cristina, Owen desperately wished that he could read her mind. Owen prayed, with every fiber of his being, that she could _see_ him – see the sincerity in the words he spoke, the burning desire he had to be with her, the hope he clung to that things would be better.

"I don't think…" Cristina started. Owen's body tensed up, since the last time she spoke those words to him, things hadn't ended so well. She continued, "…that I can handle this on my own. I'm sorry, Owen. But it's your fault that I love you, too. And it's because of you and your stupid boy penis that I'm going to be the fat pregnant chick. So you're definitely going to have to be a part our lives: me, the baby, and my estrogen."

Owen let out a mixture of a laugh and sigh of relief, glad to see that she could still be snarky even at times like these. Owen took the fact that she could crack jokes as a positive sign. He pulled her closer into his embrace, letting her bury her face into the crook of his neck. He breathed in the scent of her hair, reveling in the aroma that had once been constant in his life – and would be again.

Cristina muttered something into Owen's chest, too muffled for Owen to understand. Owen pulled away – just far enough so that he could hear what she said.

"What?" Owen asked.

"I can't believe you knocked me up. I didn't give you permission to do that."

Owen gave her a lopsided grin, remembering another time when he had done something without her permission. And as he had on the first day they'd met, Owen responded with a single word. "So?"


	23. Four Weeks and One Day

**Author's Note**: Here is a little bit of "angsty porn" for JeriBearRN, who bid on me in the Support Stacie author auction. JeriBearRN, I hope you like it!

* * *

**Four Weeks and One Day**

The separation was tougher than Owen thought it would be. He had gotten so used to grabbing a drink with her at Joe's after work, seeking her out at the hospital to just talk to her, or finding somewhere private to kiss her when his lips had begun to miss hers. But nowadays, he could do none of those things. Because he had hurt her. Because she was afraid to fall asleep in his arms.

But he was healing – slowly but surely. And though Cristina was never too far away, she was not close enough. Yes, she would casually ask him how therapy was whenever she was assigned to his service. And yes, there were times where they would be caught in a moment where the world stopped and the only people who existed were the two of them. But those were too few and far between, and she would always look away.

Owen could understand her need to keep a distance. Hell, he was surprised that she would want to be near him at all, considering what he had done – he had almost killed her. It was dark, but it was the truth. To him, it didn't matter that he couldn't remember it. It didn't matter that he was asleep. _His_ hands had caused her pain, and they had left ugly bruises on her neck. So now when he looked at her neck, the desire to press soft kisses that had previously struck him was now tainted with the image of the angry red welts that he had caused. And though the physical signs were gone, the memory of them was imprinted on his mind.

Four weeks and one day. Since she had turned to him and told him that she couldn't handle it after all. Since they had made love for the first and last time. He hoped that it wouldn't be their last time; but lately, he wasn't so sure that they would ever get another chance. He had ruined their first date. He had missed her first solo surgery. He had strangled her. Owen didn't dare to hope for any more chances to do right by her.

Even as his sessions with Dr. Wyatt have improved him dramatically, he couldn't seem to truly enjoy the progress he'd made within himself knowing that his relationship with Cristina was in limbo. He knew that the feelings and the heat were still there – at least they were for him. He couldn't tell with Cristina anymore. He could no longer read her – perhaps it was because he was too afraid to assume things that were no longer there. And if that were true, Owen didn't know what he would do. He had gone to therapy for her. He had started this journey towards being whole and healthy for her. And though Dr. Wyatt had constantly preached that he should do all this for himself, a major part of it would always be about her.

Four weeks and one day. It had been too long – too long without the physical contact he so desperately needed from her. No stroking of his face. No comforting embraces. No gentle kisses. All the things his body craved to feel once again.

Owen let out a sigh of frustration as he rubbed the back of his neck. Standing in the middle of the on-call room, he took off his navy blue scrub top and set his pager down on the nearby nightstand in preparation of a quick nap. While pulling back the maroon colored covers, Owen heard the door open behind him.

Owen turned around, ready to tell the person that the room was being occupied, when the words caught in his throat. Cristina stood frozen in the doorway, the image of Owen shirtless in an on-call room bringing up all the memories from the last time they were alone in the same on-call room. Realizing that she was gawking, she quickly broke the awkward silence, "Oh my god. I'm so sorry. I didn't mean to… I am so sorry for barging in like that. I'll go find another room."

"Wait," Owen said.

Cristina stopped in her tracks, already mostly out of the door. She took a deep breath then slowly turned back to look at him.

"Please don't go," Owen said, his voice barely above a whisper. But Cristina heard him, and those words hit her right in the gut. She had purposely put a wall between them because she had thought he needed time alone. And furthermore, she had felt guilty for basically abandoning him. Cristina took pride in the fact that she was strong, but she hadn't been strong enough for Owen. She didn't even blame him for what had happened. If anything, she blamed herself. She was a doctor, and she didn't recognize the signs. Just as none of them had noticed the signs with Izzie.

So, she had kept her distance, staying away for his own good and not knowing where things stood between them. She missed him terribly, having come to depend on him in a way she had never depended on anyone else. It wasn't that she needed him – Cristina would never admit to needing anyone, let alone a man – but he had made her happy in ways no one else had before and no one else ever could.

This was why she stayed. This was why Cristina locked the door behind her and walked up to the defeated-looking man that stood before her. Owen gazed down upon her with eyes that glistened with unspoken emotion. Cristina didn't need his words – she understood.

"I've missed you, too," she whispered, slowly resting her hands on his waist and feeling the warmth of his bare skin.

Owen pressed his forehead to hers in relief but kept his arms at his side, still the tiniest bit uncertain of whether she was ready for his touch. Cristina was sure. She took his hands and placed them at the bottom of her shirt. Then, she lifted her arms up and waited for him to pull it off, never once taking her eyes off of him.

Owen gently removed her light blue scrub top and the gray undershirt beneath it. Once free, Cristina's hands drifted to the front of his scrub pants as she began to loosen the ties of the drawstring. Within seconds, they were both completely naked, standing slightly apart and soaking each other in.

Cristina made the first move. She lifted her face towards his, holding his face within her hands, and pressed a tender kiss to his lips. She stood on the ball of her feet and leaned into his body, molding herself against his muscular form, and then probed his lips with her tongue. Owen's tongue immediately met hers and passions flared. Without breaking the kiss, Cristina moved Owen back towards the bed until they were stopped by edge of the bed. Cristina rested back on her heels and with one hand, pushed Owen onto the bed so that he sat against the wall.

Using his shoulders as leverage, Cristina positioned herself above his erection, straddling him. Keeping eye contact, she slowly lowered herself onto him, watching as his eyes closed momentarily in pleasure. She stayed like that – unmoving – for a minute, reveling in the way he felt inside her. Yes, she had missed the feel of him – filling her completely. It felt damn good.

Then, she started to move, grinding her hips against him back and forth. And it felt even better.

Cristina threw her head back in ecstasy, and Owen wrapped one arm around her waist to support her. With his other hand, he cupped one perfect breast in his mouth and lavished tender attention to her nipple.

The pace quickened, and Cristina's hands moved from his shoulders to his face. She forced him to look her in the eye as she rode him closer and closer to the brink of insanity. Brown eyes met blue ones – neither of them wanting to miss a single second of this moment. This moment where they were once again together as one.

Their breaths got shallower. Their moans grew louder and more frequent.

Finally, Cristina buried her face into the side of neck to muffle a scream, collapsing into his arms as the waves of aftershocks went through her system. Owen quickly followed, then sagged into the wall, holding Cristina loosely in his embrace. The rise and fall of their chests matched each other's as they recovered.

Soon, the reality of what had happened hit them. Cristina took her head from his shoulder and leaned back so that she could look at him, cognizant of the fact that he was still insider her – and in all honesty, she liked it that way.

"I'm sor—" Owen started to say, but Cristina put a finger on his lips to stop him.

"Don't," she replied. "I'm not."

Owen tried to speak again. "I wish that things were… That they could be… That we could be…"

Cristina interrupted him, stroking her fingers through his hair. "They will be. And we will be."


	24. Man and Wife

**Author's Note**: Here is a little bit of mature fun for mstars and Mary, who bid on me in the Support Stacie author auction. I hope you like it!

* * *

**Man and Wife**

Owen nuzzled Cristina's neck – his wife's neck. Wife. It was still a little strange for him to think of Cristina as his wife – not in a bad what-have-I-done way, but in a thrilling I-can't-believe-she-said-yes way. Wife. It warmed his heart just thinking it.

It had been a simple, private ceremony with just Meredith and Derek in attendance. This one was for them – the more extravagant (planned by an overzealous Mrs. Rubenstein) would come later where all their family and friends would come. But today's ceremony was just about Owen and Cristina – two people promising to spend the rest of their lives together as partners, lovers, and best of friends.

When they got to the door of their apartment, he stopped her from going in by pulling back on their joined hands. As she turned around with an exasperated look, he smiled gently and pressed a kiss to the back of her hand. The thin gold band on her ring finger felt cool beneath his lips.

"Are you seriously going to carry me across the threshold?" Cristina asked – her tone filled with laughter.

"Yes, I am," Owen replied with determination. He had swept her off her feet on the first day they'd met; and he was certainly going to do the same on the first day of the rest of their lives.

Owen placed her hand behind his neck then bent down to scoop her up. Cristina let out a carefree laugh and clung to him as he carefully maneuvered her through the doorway, kicking the door closed once they were both inside. The skirt of Cristina's simple white dress flowed towards the ground, brushing against Owen's knees.

"Well, you can let go of me now. You have successfully crossed the threshold," Cristina said when Owen continued to cradle her in his arms.

Owen shifted her more securely in his arms and replied, "I'm never letting you go." He proceeded to carry her towards their bedroom and gently deposited her onto the king-sized bed. Cristina flung off her heels, not caring where they landed and opened her arms to him. Owen stood by the side of the bed and removed his suit jacket, followed by his tie and his shoes. He unbuttoned the top buttons of his dress shirt and the cuffs, rolling the sleeves to his elbow. Cristina, catching an eyeful of his muscular chest, jokingly let out a wolf whistle. Owen chuckled then placed his hands on her legs, slowly traveling upwards and pushing the skirt up as he went. He paused when he reached the garter she'd been wearing underneath and raised an eyebrow.

"Meredith," Cristina said with a shrug, knowing that that one word was all he needed to understand.

Owen smiled, leaving it in place – to be honest: it turned him on knowing that she'd had this secret bit of lingerie hiding under her dress this entire time. Cristina braced her hands against the headboard, lifting her hips and thighs off the bed to help Owen's exploration of her body.

Owen gathered the silky material above her navel, exposing her lacy underwear and part of her midriff. He pressed soft kisses along the edge of the lace, tickling her skin with his beard.

"Any day, now," Cristina said impatiently, wriggling her hips suggestively in an attempt to speed things up.

"This has to be special," Owen insisted, refusing to give in.

"Why? You and I have sex all the time."

"So? From this moment on, it will be married-couple, husband-and-wife sex." Owen loved saying those words: husband and wife.

Cristina laughed. "How is it any different? God, don't say it's going to be boring. I don't do boring."

"I highly doubt you and I would ever be boring. No, I was thinking I'd worship the ground you walk on."

"You mean you don't already?" Cristina asked, raising a perfectly sculpted eyebrow.

"Shut up, and let me worship you," Owen replied, tenderly taking a playful nip at her hip. Cristina's breath caught in her throat as the nip of his teeth was quickly followed by the stroke of his tongue. Yes, this worshipping thing was turning out to be a great idea. Reaching this conclusion, Cristina settled back into the pillows and decided to let him have his way with her. And plus, what woman wouldn't want to be worshipped by a man like one Major Owen Hunt?

Owen's warm breath moved from her hip to her core, causing her to get even wetter. He moved her legs farther apart so that he could get better access then proceeded to remove her panties. Throwing the tiny scrap of material over his shoulder, he braced his elbows against the mattress and gripped the outsides of her thighs with his hands. Breathing in her musky scent, Owen lapped up the moisture that he had caused with all his foreplay.

Cristina's left hand left the headboard and attached itself to his head, clinging to his slightly curly red hair. Her hips involuntarily bucked against his mouth as she writhed in pleasure from his gentle assault on her clit. Owen shifted his weight slightly so that he could move his hand between her thighs and insert a finger into her slick pussy – never once missing a beat. Cristina's moans spurred him on, so he inserted another finger and quickened the pace, knowing exactly how to make her go over the edge. Owen could feel the telltale signs of her oncoming orgasm and contemplated bringing her to climax in this way. But Cristina decided for him.

"No," she said, pulling his head up so that their eyes met, "not without you."

Owen backed away and quickly removed the rest of his clothing, his cock already so hard that it was almost painful. Cristina sat up and lifted the dress over her head, flinging it to the ground; her strapless bra immediately followed it. She made to remove her garter as well, but Owen stopped her.

"That's my job," he said, pulling the powder blue garter down her leg and leaving a trail of kisses in its path.

Once they were both completely naked, Cristina wrapped her arms around his neck and her legs around his waist. Their lips met in a passionate kiss, fraught with the love and fervor of two soul mates who had found each other.

Owen lowered Cristina so that she was once again lying on her back with his arms braced on either side of her, his biceps bulging as they bore the brunt of his weight. He shifted his knees so that her legs were seated higher on his waist then buried himself deep inside of her in one smooth motion. Cristina instinctively arched against him, her nails digging into his back and leaving slight indentations. Owen grabbed a fistful of her dark curls and bared the side of her neck. He licked the sensitive spot just above her collarbone all the way up to her jaw line, and proceeded to whisper sweet nothings into her ear intermixed with some more provocative language. The former warmed Cristina's heart while the latter just turned her on even more – something she didn't believe was possible.

Cristina's hands drifted back towards the headboards to gain more leverage; and Owen's moved upward to meet hers, caressing her arms along the way. With their hands clasped, matching wedding bands reflecting the light of the afternoon sun seeping through the sheer curtains, Cristina and Owen moved their hips in perfect harmony. Owen would pull almost completely out then drive right back into her, filling her to the hilt – just the way Cristina liked it.

The hard plane of Owen's chest grazed Cristina's nipples as he shifted back and forth, creating a sensation that drove Cristina, who'd always been sensitive there, insane. Owen tugged on her bottom lip with his teeth as he felt her clench around his cock and knew that she was starting to come. Cristina's toes curled against the backs of his thighs and her cries of pleasure were getting louder as an orgasm started to overtake her body.

Owen began to thrust into her in earnest; until finally, he came inside of her with such intensity that he swore he saw stars. Cristina trembled beneath him as the aftershocks of her own climax went through her body.

Afraid of crushing her, Owen rolled over so that she lay on top of him. Cristina rested her head in the crook of his neck, trying to catch her breath and unable to move. Owen idly ran one hand up and down her spine and held her hand with the other one against his chest. Cristina could feel his heart beating under her palm.

"You know," Cristina said after a while, "I think I can get used to married sex."

Owen chuckled in response. "I told you so. Mr. and Mrs. Owen Hunt can never be boring."

"Shut up or you're not going to get any on our honeymoon," Cristina replied haughtily, though they both knew that there was no chance of _that _happening.

"Already denying me sex? We really are a married." And though Owen said it facetiously at first, the truth of those words hit them both.

Cristina lifted her head up so that their eyes could meet – both sets glistening a bit from emotion. Love emanated from every fiber of her being and from his as well. In a voice that reflected the immensity of what she was feeling, Cristina replied, "Yes, we really are."


	25. Take Care Now

**Author's Note**: First of all, let me begin by saying that the writers on _Grey's Anatomy_ are so awesome for giving us scenes like the one in _No Good at Saying Sorry (One More Chance)_ – that last scene with Cristina and Owen is pure magic. But it's heartbreaking, so to soothe some of pain, here is a slightly happier ending.

**Dedication**: To Raachel2008 -- because although they didn't say the words, it was definitely there. But if the 3 little words are actually spoken, I will keep my end of the bargain and write you a fanfiction of your choice.

* * *

"**Take Care Now"**

Tears were flowing down Cristina's face as she listened to Owen tell her that he was trying to make things right. All day she had been thinking that he had moved on, and that these odd pleasantries he delivered to her with a polite smile were proof that he no longer cared. And that hurt. And it made her mad. Which was why she couldn't keep quiet any longer when he came up to her and said to her, "Nice work today" as if she were just his resident who'd done a good job. She wasn't O'Malley or Karev – she was supposed to be the woman he wanted to be around in 40 years.

But she'd been wrong – completely wrong. He loved her. Although he couldn't say the actual words, he'd said them just the same. He still cared – and all of the day's distancing behavior had been because he thought he was protecting her from him. If she wasn't so heartbroken, she probably would've made some comment about his overactive savior complex.

Cristina felt guilty. She had let his PTSD get out of hand, and she felt that she'd made things worse by thinking she could handle it when she actually couldn't. So now, even though she wanted to desperately tell him that she didn't want to be let off the hook – that she was in this for the long haul, she couldn't. She was afraid that it would make things worse – she didn't want to do anything to impede his healing process. If he felt that he needed to distance himself from her, then she would heed his wishes. The only thing she wouldn't be able to bear is if he no longer cared.

With the list of the silly 3-word sentences in her hand, she avoided Owen's searching gaze. She took in a shaky breath and handed the paper over to him. Without glancing up because it would be too painful to look him in the eyes, she whispered, "Take care now" – the exact words he'd said to her. She knew that he'd understand that this was her saying that she loved him, too. Walking past him, her hand briefly lingered on the sheet of paper before letting go and leaving him without so much as a backward glance. She knew that she probably shouldn't have said anything to make things easier for him to move on – as he was trying to do with her – but she couldn't leave him without letting him know that she loved him, too. She would respect his wishes and not say the words that were killing him inside, but she wouldn't let him continue believing that he was no good for her or that she could move on from him so easily – if at all.

Owen briefly looked down at the paper as Cristina handed it back to him before staring at her retreating back, absorbing the fact of what she'd just said to him: what was once an inane and ordinary three-word sentence now had so much meaning. She loved him. He couldn't believe she'd said it. He couldn't understand how she could love him even after what he'd done.

He couldn't just let her walk off without understanding.

Cristina was walking at a brisk pace, wanting to go back to the privacy of her apartment where prying eyes couldn't see her tears. She couldn't believe that she'd cried out in the open like that. She was so preoccupied on making it to her apartment that she didn't hear the sound Owen's running feet until he was right next to her.

Owen gently grabbed hold of her arm so that she'd turn to face him and forcing her to come to a halt. Standing outside the front of her apartment – the same place where he'd first told her that he thought she was beautiful – Owen brought his hand to her chin to signal her to look at him. Cristina resisted at first but finally gave in.

Owen brushed away the tears that ran down her cheek. After a moment's pause, he finally spoke. "Why did you say it?" he asked softly, sincerely needing to know how she could love a man who didn't deserve her and was not worthy of her.

"Because it's true," Cristina replied, her voice a bit hoarse because of the tears.

"How can it be true – after what I did to you?" He still hated speaking of the incident. Every day, he wished it'd never happened. Every day, he wished that things were different.

"I forgive you. It wasn't _you_ – _you _could never hurt me. Until today when you treated me like I was anyone else. _That_ hurt more."

"I'm sorry, Cristina. I just want to make things right. I thought you'd be happier if I let you off the hook."

"Don't you see, Owen? _You_ make me happy. _We_ are what's right. And I don't want to be let off the hook. I don't want you to let me go. But first you need to stop thinking that you are no good for me."

"I wrecked you," Owen whispered intensely, his tone laced with pain.

"No," Cristina countered adamantly, cupping his face in her hand, "you fixed me. Iwas a ghost before you. And yousaved me. You see me, Owen. You see me. You don't know my 'before', but I have one, too. You are my 'after.' You are my always. _That _is why I said it."


	26. Revelations and Sleep Deprivation

**Author's Note**: Even though I am secretly hoping for some more hot hot sex between Cristina and Owen in the 100th episode, JeriBearRN already beautifully wrote that scenario out and I can't compete. So, here's another, not M-rated, take on why neither Owen nor Cristina are in the pit during the sneak peek we got for the 100th episode. (Note: I'm not a therapist, just a huge Cristina/Owen lover – which is why the therapy session is focused on his relationship with Cristina. So, the sole purpose of my version of a therapy session is to reunite this couple and not to mirror what an actual therapy session looks like.)

**Dedication**: JeriBearRN/BNScrubNurse suggested that I write this, so this one is for her.

* * *

**Revelations and Sleep Deprivation**

Cristina could barely stay awake, but she almost wanted it that way. Since walking away from Owen after telling him that she loved him, using the words he'd chosen "take care now," she'd been trying to lose herself in work. The pain was overwhelming, and thinking about it made it hurt worse. So, she kept on working and refused to go home. She only slept when she knew that it would come instantaneously due to pure exhaustion. Because she didn't want to – nor was she even able to – dwell on her current situation with Owen any longer.

Knowing that he loved her should have made her feel better. She had been so angry and upset over the polite manner in which he'd treated her that day, acting like he didn't care anymore and that she was just another resident under his charge. But now that she knew that it was all a lie – that he did care, that he loved her but was trying to do the honorable thing by not saying it. It made things worse. She couldn't hold onto the anger and fade out the grief – how could she be angry at him now? When she could clearly see how it was killing him to do the "right" thing? He was once again trying to protect her. No, she couldn't be angry with him.

So, she was stuck with the pain and the hurt. In moments of weakness when her mind would start to drift, the emotions would well up inside of her and threaten to spill out. She couldn't even look Owen in the eye now. She would heed his wishes, but she couldn't treat him like anyone else. It was impossible. She loved him too damn much to pretend that they were nothing more than colleagues. So, she stayed up and read up on medical journals instead of going home. She holed herself up in the dermatology wing on-call rooms overnight so that Owen wouldn't accidentally stumble in on her. She hated avoiding him; but being near him and knowing that she couldn't have him was even worse.

Cristina caught herself nearly crying at the nurse's station before she coughed to cover up the tightness in her throat caused by the impending tears. With her eyes focused downward, she walked off to find a private place to collect herself. She made a beeline towards the dermatology wing, figuring that she might as well take a nap or else she'd end up falling asleep while diagnosing or treating a patient.

Cristina quietly entered the empty room and pulled back the peach-colored covers – even their on-call rooms were different: more serene and soothing than the ones in the surgical wing. She knew none of the dermatology residents would bother her – they were too polite and kind for that. Undoing her carelessly-made bun, she let her head fall into the plush pillows, closed her eyes, and tried to shut out the world.

***

Owen stood outside the on-call room, having silently followed Cristina there, and contemplated whether or not he should enter. For the past few days, he'd attempted to seek her out to talk to her; but she'd been avoiding him, and he'd never gotten the chance. He would have never thought to look for her in the dermatology wing. He would have found it oddly hilarious if it weren't for the fact that this time apart was torturing him. He had thought that doing the noble thing of trying to let her off the hook had been the right move to make; but he'd ended up hurting her even more. Seeing her cry like that tore him to pieces. He had thought it was what she needed – what _they _needed, but he had been wrong.

The following day, he had told Dr. Wyatt what had happened in his therapy session. Owen could still remember it as clear as day…

_"Why do you think she loves you?" Dr. Wyatt asked in that matter-of-fact tone that still annoyed him after he told her what had happened outside the main doors of the hospital._

_"I don't know," Owen replied – he really couldn't understand how Cristina could love him._

_Dr. Wyatt tried another route. "Do you think Cristina is the type of person who falls in love easily?"_

_"How should I know?" Owen replied, a bit roughly._

_"You know her, Owen. You should know the answer to that."_

_Owen paused to think. And after a moment, he reluctantly admitted, "No, she isn't."_

_"Do you think she could fall in love with a man whom she thought was unworthy?"_

_Owen remained silent. He could see where Dr. Wyatt was going with this. Though it made him uncomfortable and though he desperately didn't want to continue, he forced himself to go on. "No," he said simply._

_"Why not?"_

_Owen hated it when Dr. Wyatt made him explain. He had never been the verbal type, and he wasn't one to talk about his feelings. But he wanted to get better – he needed to get better. "She holds people to a very high standard and doesn't suffer fools."_

_Dr. Wyatt hid a tiny smile, having met Cristina and knew this to be true. She didn't necessarily like the younger woman, but she could see how important she was to Owen. In the end, her main priority was to help Owen – and she knew that Cristina would play an integral role in Owen's healing process. She'd long suspected this, which was why she helped Owen come up with those three-word sentences. From what she'd seen of Cristina, she knew that Cristina probably wouldn't let Owen get away with saying those generic pleasantries – and she'd been right. Owen needed to see that he was deserving of forgiveness; and that if the woman he loved could forgive him, then he could being to forgive himself as well._

_"She obviously thought you were worthy or else she never would have gotten involved with you in the first place, right?"_

_"But I nearly killed her. I lost any right to be with her the second my hands touched her throat."_

_"Apparently Cristina doesn't think so."_

_"She broke up with me and told me she couldn't handle it."_

_"You were going untreated. If she hadn't said that, if she hadn't broken things off, would you be here today?"_

_Owen looked up at her briefly before returning his gaze to his hands. "Probably not," he admitted. If he hadn't lost Cristina and subsequently hit rock bottom, he would have continued to believe that things would have worked themselves out on their own – that he would get over his "problem." When Derek had first sought him out and had equated his PTSD to being a physical injury, he had resisted. But now, he realized that this was his war wound – and he could heal. Unfortunately, he had had to lose Cristina to see the truth._

_Dr. Wyatt let him think to himself for a second before continuing. "But you've been coming to these therapy sessions and working hard. And you just told me the other day that you haven't had a serious nightmare in a while. You're getting better, Owen. You have made so much progress."_

_The psychiatrist knew that Owen was extremely hard on himself and had a difficult time seeing his good qualities. He still needed help in realizing his own self-worth, but she could already see significant improvement. It helped that he was very determined and dedicated to getting better._

_"Where do you see yourself in a year?" Dr. Wyatt asked, rather abruptly._

_"I don't know. Better off, I guess."_

_"What about romantically?"_

_Owen remained silent._

_"How about forty years?"_

_Owen couldn't speak – the memory of him telling Cristina that he wanted to be around in forty years reverberated in his mind._

_"Can you see yourself with Cristina in forty years?"_

_Another long silence permeated the room. Finally, Owen spoke. "Yes," Owen whispered, his voice laced with heartfelt emotion. It came out sounding partially like a question, as if he was afraid to believe in it._

_"Do you think a future with her is still possible?"_

_"Yes," Owen said – this time with more certainty._

_"Cristina told you that she loved you – in spite of the fact that you two are not together and that you hurt her. She still loves you. How did it make you feel when she said it?"_

"_Hopeful."_

"_Good. Do you believe her?"_

_"Yes. Cristina wouldn't lie about that."_

_"If you can believe it when she tells you that she loves you, why can't you believe it when she tells you that you deserve to be forgiven?"_

The session had ended there, but that last question had given him food for thought. He needed to start learning how to forgive himself and accept that he had an illness – and that he wasn't entirely to blame. What he had said to her in the vent room was true: he could never hurt her – intentionally. But every day since, he'd worked hard to make sure that something like that would never happen again.

Taking a deep breath, he quietly entered the on-call room. As his eyes adjusted to the dark, he locked the door behind him and silenced his pager just in case it went off and jolted her awake. After a few seconds, he could make out the small figure of Cristina sleeping in one of the beds under the pale moonlight peeking through the blinds. He made his way to her bed and sat on the edge carefully as to not wake her up. An errant curl lay across her cheek, and Owen instinctively brushed it off her face. Owen held his breath as the tiny movement caused Cristina to stir. Although he desperately wanted to talk to her, he enjoyed this chance to absorb the sight of her – he hadn't seen her at all these past few days, and he'd missed her.

Cristina let out a little sigh and rubbed her face against Owen's palm, moving closer to where Owen was sitting. Seeing Cristina with her lips slightly apart, Owen couldn't resist the temptation of leaning over and brushing his lips against hers. It was the merest of touches, as gentle as a whisper across her soft lips.

One of Cristina's hands found its way to the back of his neck, keeping his face close to hers. Owen held himself very still, not knowing if she was awake or still fast asleep. He braced hand against the wall to steady himself.

***

Cristina thought she was dreaming – and it was such a good dream that she could almost believe it was real. She felt the familiar tickle of whiskers against her lips and wished that they were really there. She could feel the warmth of his skin beneath her fingertips but didn't want to open her eyes just to realize that it was all an illusion or hallucination. Maybe she had tumors in her brain since this is probably what Izzie felt when she hallucinated Denny. She wondered if it counted if the person in question was still alive.

Consciousness was slowly creeping up on her despite her desperate desire to remain in this dream of better times. As she became more awake, she realized that someone was breathing very close to her and that she was slightly shifted towards the edge of the bed where a huge weight was. With trepidation, Cristina gradually opened her eyes and was met with very familiar blue ones, and she gasped in surprise. Either Owen was really there or she really did have a brain tumor – or was at the very least, extremely sleep-deprived. But having him this close to her and looking at her with such tenderness, Cristina didn't care if this was real or not. She wrapped her arms around his neck, pulled him on top of her, and hungrily kissed his lips.

Owen kissed her back with equal fervor, forgetting his desire to talk. But when one was kissing Cristina Yang, the last thing that person is thinking of is talking – in fact, one didn't really think at all.

The kiss ended, and Cristina sunk back into the pillows with a satisfied sigh – still thinking that this was all just a figment of her over-exhausted brain and overactive imagination. At least until Owen spoke.

"Cristina?" Owen asked, a bit hesitant and also confused as to why Cristina was just lying there.

Cristina's eyes opened immediately. "I'm not dreaming, am I? This is not me being sleep-deprived and pulling an Izzie?"

"Uh, no," Owen replied. There was a hint of laughter in his voice.

Cristina shot up, nearly knocking heads with Owen on the way up. Owen regained his balance and waited for Cristina to speak.

"What are you doing here?" Cristina asked, for lack of a better thing to say.

"I followed you. You've been avoiding me."

Cristina looked away. "I thought that's what you wanted."

"I never _wanted_ to stay away from you. I _wanted_ to make things right."

"Well, what made you change your mind?"

"You."

Cristina looked up. "What do you mean?"

"You said, 'Take care now.'" Owen moved closer and covered her hand with his. "Did you mean it?"

"Yes," Cristina said softly, her eyes tearing up.

"Good. Because I love you, Cristina." Cristina just stared at him, wordlessly, until Owen finally filled the silence. "What?"

"You said the words."

"I know." Owen cupped her face in the palm of his hand, stroking away a tear that had fallen. "I can't stand the fact that I hurt you even more by making you think that I didn't care. How can you think that I'd be happy without you? I will never feel like I deserve you, but I am willing to spend the rest of my life trying to be a man who is worthy of you."

The tears began to fall in earnest down Cristina's cheek, but this time they were born from hope and joy instead of hurt and despair. She embraced him tightly, burying her face into the crook of his neck, and said, "You seriously need to tone down your savior complex."

Owen let out a low chuckle and held her even closer, not wanting to ever let her go. Cristina let out a huge yawn, her physical exhaustion having caught up to her. Owen felt it against his neck and smiled. Leaning back so that he could look closely at her face, he could see the dark circles under her eyes from having worked at least three days straight with little sleep.

"Sleep. You've been up way too long."

"I'm fine," Cristina insisted, though another yawn betrayed her words.

Owen smiled at her stubbornness, and gently eased her head onto the pillow behind her. He pulled the covers up to her chin as Cristina's eyes began to droop.

"Don't go," Cristina said when she saw Owen look at the door. "Stay here with me." Cristina lifted one side of the covers up, motioning him to lie down next to her.

Owen hesitated, still a bit afraid of unintentionally hurting her again. "Are you sure? You're not afraid?"

"Should I be?" Cristina asked without judgment in her eyes, trusting him to tell her the truth.

"I haven't had an episode for several weeks, and Dr. Wyatt says I'm doing better," Owen said, honestly.

"Then, come here." Cristina moved over so that Owen could join her under the covers. She lifted her head so that he could put his arm under it, then she nestled closer to his body. Settling into a comfortable position on her side so that she was facing him, she grabbed his free arm and placed it around her waist then rested her hand above his elbow. Closing her eyes and drifting to sleep, Cristina could feel his gaze upon her and could sense some residual tension in his body. "Relax," she murmured without even opening her eyes, "there isn't a ceiling fan – so you're good."

Owen marveled at her ability to joke about something so serious – but this was Cristina and that was what she did. He had to trust in his progress and believe that he was really better. Owen pressed a kiss to her forehead and closed his eyes as well.

"Owen?" Cristina said, a tad groggily.

"Yes?" Owen couldn't help but tense up in fear that she'd changed her mind. But, he had nothing to worry about.

"I love you, too."


	27. Love and Ceiling Fans

**Author's Note**: Until the season finale, we haven't heard too much of what's been going on in Cristina's mind. So at the suggestion of the person whom this story is dedicated to, I thought I'd tackle things from Cristina's perspective. This takes place after the wedding in 5.22 – the 100th episode. Cristina's thoughts on the relationship.

**Dedication**: To Raachel2008. Because they said the words. :)

* * *

**Love and Ceiling Fans**

It had been a long day. From body bag after body bag of the graduating seniors who would never receive their diplomas and venture into the real world. To the new Mr. and Mrs. Karev who would always remember this brief moment perfection and wish for a different ending – an ending that didn't involve IV drips or shaving heads. Yes, it had been a long day – only made longer by the fact that she and Owen weren't together. She knew that she should be appreciative of the fact that Owen had dropped the "three word" therapy thing that he'd used on her a couple weeks before; but, she wasn't ready to just jump right back in again. She hadn't been ready to feel his pinky touch hers in a gesture of bottled up wishes and desire. She hadn't been ready for his hand to take hers in a gesture of deep found sympathy and love. She still wasn't ready…

Love is love. That was what Jordan had said to her when he spoke about his girlfriend Dana. Love is love.

Cristina knew about love. What she felt for Owen – that was love. And it hurt – oh, how it hurt. It hurt even to breathe near him – to walk away when all she wanted to do was to hold him tight and make him take away all her fears. And that was what scared her: this _need _to have him. Cristina Yang was not a person who _needed _anyone – but she needed him.

But she couldn't have him. She couldn't have him for reasons that didn't involve Owen. This was past the choking, the failed first date, the "hot and cold," and the pretending that she didn't exist. This was about her and how she felt that it was _she_ who was the unworthy one.

Cristina was far from perfect. But sometimes when Owen looked at her, she would get the feeling that he thought otherwise – that she _was _perfect, perfect for him. His soul mate: the woman, who after only knowing for a relatively brief amount of time, he wanted to be around in forty years.

Cristina didn't believe in soul mates – until Owen had come into her life. Even though they'd both fought it at first – him more so than her, it couldn't be stopped: love, the earth-shattering, eye-opening, all-consuming kind. It was a term for epic romances and whimsical fairytales, but it fit them – not that she'd ever say it out loud.

So that's what made it worse: the way he looked at her and treated her. Because she _wasn't_ perfect, and she _didn't_ deserve him – even with all the mistakes he'd made. Cristina Yang was a robot – she'd heard it whispered about her hundreds of times. And she had been proud of it: being the ice queen who outshone her peers in the OR. And now she was ashamed. Because Owen deserved better. He deserved someone who would keep their promise when they said they could handle it. And most of all, he deserved someone who was honest.

She knew that she should have told him about Burke, especially after Beth had shown up. He'd felt so guilty over having not told her about his ex-fiancée; and telling him about Burke would have alleviated some of it. But she hadn't. Whether it was because she secretly wanted him to suffer as payback for having kept it a secret (or for the plain fact that he'd even get engaged to someone like Beth in the first place) or whether it was because she was just too scared to tell him in fear of losing him, she didn't know. What she did know was that she had come _this_ close to being Dr. Cristina Burke when they'd first met. And what she also knew was that the moment Major Owen Hunt had swooped into her life, the piece of her heart that she thought she'd lost when Burke left had been replaced with a new and whole one – his. Every day, Owen laid his heart in her hands without expecting anything in return. And every day, Cristina wanted to do the same but couldn't. She couldn't lean into the fear. All she could do was take baby steps.

Cristina let out a sigh that reverberated throughout her body as she lay on top of the covers. She closed her eyes, trying to drown out the rest of the world. The apartment was quiet, since Callie and the perky peds surgeon had decided to go over to her place. At least she could sleep in her own bed tonight: no tossing and turning in an on-call room and being ambushed with memories of the last time Owen and her were in an on-call room together.

Unable to bear thinking of that night, Cristina opened her eyes with the intention of getting up and putting in some surgical video to lull her to sleep and take her mind off of Owen. But instead, she saw the ceiling fan. The same ceiling fan that triggered Owen to choke her. The same ceiling fan that ultimately ruined her life. Cristina had never felt so much anger or hatred towards an inanimate object. The more she dwelled on it, the angrier she got – until she was at the point where she just had to take the damn thing down. Cristina leapt out of her bed and went in search of the toolbox that she knew was lying around somewhere. Finding it in the back of her closet, she skipped over the screwdriver and went right for the hammer. She knew that it wasn't the most efficient way to remove a ceiling fan, but she was pissed. And she needed to take out this frustration on something.

Gripping the rather heavy hammer, Cristina climbed atop of her bed and grasped onto one of the blades for leverage. With her palm forming a tight grip around the handle, Cristina swung her arm at the base of the ceiling fan and was satisfied by the loud thud sound her action had caused. With each whack of the hammer, Cristina could feel the walls she had built to protect herself start to crumble and her insecurities start to fall away.

Whack! She was Cristina Yang – she could be a badass surgeon and a loving partner.

Bam! She deserved a little happiness after what had happened with Burke.

Owen loved her, and he made her happy in ways no one else ever could.

He was in therapy and getting better – he believed in them.

He wanted to be around in forty years.

_She _wanted to be around in forty years.

She loved him… She loved him.

It was simple enough. She loved him, and she could see him forty years from now trying to convince her to put down the scalpel when it became her time to do so. And she knew that when it was time, she'd be fine because she would have him. Dr. Campbell had asked Cristina what she would have after she couldn't operate any longer. And she knew the answer: she'd have Owen.

Cristina let her arm hang at her side with, having put in some satisfying dents in the cursed ceiling fan. The hammer hung loosely in her hand as she walked over to the toolbox to trade it in for a screwdriver. With a newfound sense of calm, she systematically removed the ceiling fan and placed it outside the apartment door so that she could throw it into the dumpster on her way to work. Not wanting to stare up at a gaping hole in her ceiling with wires coming out, Cristina grabbed a roll of duct tape, an old newspaper, and covered up the hole. She could always make Owen fix it up for her later, she thought then caught herself. Owen in her bedroom – it seemed that subconsciously, she was expecting Owen to end up in her bedroom again. Cristina smiled to herself – apparently, she was making progress, too. Inch by inch, just like Owen, but progress just the same.

Jordan had been right. When you love someone, love is love. Nothing else really matters.


	28. Here's to the Future

**Author's Note**: Here's some filler scenes for "Here's to the Future" that surrounds the storyline involving meeting Owen's mother for the first time since we only got a few seconds of it. The actress literally had a one-word line. Anyways, hope you enjoy it. I got a bit carried away, and it ended up being rather lengthy – so I must apologize for that. And as always, feedback is encouraged. :)

* * *

"**Here's to the Future"**

"I don't want you to die."

Owen's heart clenched upon hearing those words coming from Cristina's mouth. After a moment, she turned away and stared off in the direction of the parking lot. Ever since he'd told her that he had decided to go back to Iraq, he'd struggled with the idea of actually leaving without Cristina's support. He hadn't understood why she'd refused to support him: didn't she want them to be able to move forward? But now he understood. In her own way, Cristina had told him that she couldn't handle the thought of him leaving again and possibly not coming back. Or to come back even more damaged than he'd been the last time – and Owen didn't want to put her through something like that ever again.

Before, going back would have been a relatively simple decision. He was a brilliant trauma surgeon; and as such, he could serve his country. When he'd first met Cristina, the thought of returning to Iraq and the war was immediate. But that was before he'd lost his unit. And that was before he'd fallen totally and completely in love with this amazing woman who'd become his lifeline since he'd been back. And though he still felt strongly about fulfilling his duty to his country, he felt an even stronger sense of duty towards Cristina. Without her, he probably would've become another Timothy Miller: a man broken by the ravages war and unable to connect with the world again.

He had done his job: he had saved the lives of the men and women who fought for this country to the best of his ability. And now, his job was to save the lives of those at home. It was time to realize that his place was no longer in Iraq, but here: in Seattle, with his mother and Cristina. They were his family – one of his blood and the other of his heart and soul. They were his family, and he belonged here with them.

Owen continued to look at Cristina in silence – a contemplative silence without an ounce of awkwardness. He loved the way the sunlight caught the curls of her hair and made her skin glow. She was gorgeous in the sunlight. Hell, she was gorgeous anywhere and everywhere – but in that moment, the full essence of her beauty hit him. And this wasn't the mere beauty of the physical nature – no, this was beauty amplified with the knowledge of just how much he loved her and needed her. But in order for him to feel worthy enough to have her, he had to be a better man. And that meant he had to see his mom.

Owen slid his hand from his lap and reached over slowly to take hold of hers. This time, she didn't move away. Instead, she looked at their joined hands briefly before finally facing him – silent and patient, waiting for him to speak.

"I'm going to see my mom," Owen said, his voice full of conviction in knowing that it was time – that _this_ was the right move to make.

Cristina didn't say anything, but she didn't have to. Owen could see the glimmer of hope in her eyes; and he knew that, in this, he'd have her support.

Owen continued. "Will you go with me to see her?" He knew that he was asking a lot of her. They weren't even officially back together yet. They weren't even close to patching things up completely yet. And he was asking her to meet his mom. The meeting-the-parents stage wasn't supposed to happen for a while – and certainly more suitable for couples that were in a better place in their relationship. But he hoped that she would say yes because he didn't know if he could take this big step forward without her. And he also wanted his mom to meet the woman he was in love with and planned on spending the rest of his life with – should said woman let him.

Cristina nodded wordlessly.

Inside, she was silently getting nervous about meeting Owen's mother. She didn't do mothers – not even her own. And she especially did not do her boyfriends' mothers. However, he wasn't technically her boyfriend at the moment; so that should have taken some of the pressure off. It didn't. Although the labels weren't there, the feelings were.

She liked the weight of his hand on top of hers – something she'd never admit out loud. She didn't used to be the holding hands type – and for the most part, she still wasn't. But then, she didn't use to be a lot of things: kiss men whom she'd just met, fall in love with them when they pull an icicle out of her chest, or go with them willingly to see their mothers. Owen changed all that.

"I'll meet you by my truck after we get changed?"

Cristina nodded again and made to get up from the bench. Owen kept his hand on hers and stood up with her. As Cristina started to walk back towards the hospital entrance, Owen tugged on their joined hands, causing her to stop right next to him and turn around. Owen lifted his free hand and gently stroked her curls.

"Thank you for doing this," he said, his eyes looking deeply into hers.

Cristina gazed back into those bright blue eyes and saw the gratitude there. Didn't he know that she should be thanking him as well? For choosing her – and them? For choosing not to go back to Iraq and possibly dying on her? She wouldn't be able to survive such a tragedy unscathed or intact. She brought her other hand up and caressed the side of his face, feeling the familiar scruff of his beard against her soft skin.

"You're welcome," she replied. Then, she eased herself away from him; and they walked back into the hospital side by side – hands still touching.

***

The car ride was brief and silent – each of them lost in thought. Cristina was nervous about meeting Ms. Hunt. What kind of person would she be? Would she be the type of mother who'd want someone more like Beth for her son? Because she was no Beth, nor did she want to even pretend that she was. Perhaps she'd get lucky and stay in the car. But judging from the way that Owen was gripping the gearstick, he was in dire need of moral support. And in a gesture that she never would have made before Owen, she reached over and gently put her hand over his to soothe him into unclenching his fingers. Owen immediately turned his hand over so that he could interlace his fingers with hers.

Owen was also nervous: he was nervous about whether or not his mother would accept the person hewas now. He was not the same man that'd left her house before this last tour with a smile on his face and a promise to come back in one piece. That almost carefree smile had disappeared, and the promise had been broken. He had seen things that no human being should ever have to see; and he'd done things that he was most assuredly not proud of – hurting Cristina and lying to his mother about still being in Iraq.

He pulled up towards a familiar curb, having to release Cristina's hand in order to put the car in park. He stared out of the passenger window, past Cristina, and looked at the familiar steps to his mother's house. The olive green star near the door, the array of plants and ferns on the porch, and the line of dark brown chairs that faced the street: everything was the same – except him.

With one hand still on the steering wheel, he turned to Cristina, looking at her for a moment, then asked with a hint of uncertainty is his voice, "Will you come with me?"

Cristina looked down in her lap before turning towards him. Owen opened the door without waiting for her to answer, giving her the briefest glance before exiting the truck. Deep down, he knew she would – because this was Cristina. And Cristina was there for those she cared about when they needed her. It was just one of the many things he loved about her.

Owen reached the other side of the truck just as Cristina was starting to get out. He grabbed the edge of the door and helped her out of the truck. He shut the door behind her and met her on the sidewalk. Together, they approached his mother's house. When they reached the wooden front door, Owen leaned forward to knock. Within a few moments, it swung open and revealed his mother. She looked exactly like the way he'd remembered: her hair pulled into a bun and wearing a knit top with khaki pants.

"Owen?" she asked, her tone ridden with disbelief.

Owen gave her a weak smile and replied, "Hey, Mom." He glanced towards Cristina, who was looking at him, before he stepped forward to greet his mother. "I'm home."

Owen raised his arms part way; but before he could tentatively hug his mother, Owen's mother wrapped her arms around his shoulders and pulled him in close. Owen held on tight and breathed a sigh of relief as his mother embraced him, squeezing him as if she couldn't quite believe that he was here in her arms.

Cristina watched the reunion and gave small smile before looking downward. She hung back, not wanting to interrupt mother and son – and trying to be as invisible as possible. Cristina wasn't one to watch touching moments without feeling a bit uncomfortable; she almost felt like a voyeur that was intruding on someone's privacy. However, she was partly glad for the chance to be able to witness this – to see that Owen had had nothing to worry about: Ms. Hunt had literally welcomed her son home with open arms. For that alone, she liked her at once. She didn't even mind standing there a tad awkwardly as she waited for them to let go of each other.

The hug went on for a while. Owen had desperately needed this – and so did his mother. It wasn't every day that one's son came home unannounced. Ever since Owen had joined the military, she'd always get a sense of dread upon hearing someone at the door when she wasn't expecting anyone.

Finally, after being completely convinced that her son was indeed alive and well, Sarah Hunt let go of her beloved son from her warm embrace – but making sure to keep one hand on his back because she wasn't ready to let go completely. Noticing Cristina for the first time, she wiped away an errant tear from her eyes and let out an embarrassed laugh.

"I'm sorry. Where are our manners, Owen? We're neglecting your guest. Please, introduce us," Sarah Hunt said, followed by a slight sniffle as she composed herself.

"Mom, this is Cristina… A friend of mine," Owen replied, staring back at Cristina while keeping an arm around his mother's waist. Owen didn't know how else to describe Cristina. His girlfriend? It seemed an inadequate description of their situation, compounded by the fact that they technically weren't back together yet. The love of his life? Although true, he very much doubted that Cristina would want to be introduced as such while meeting his mother for the first time. Nor did he think that she was ready to hear it from his just yet.

Realizing that Owen wasn't going to say anything more, Cristina took matters into her own hand. She stepped forward and stuck out her hand. "Nice to meet you, Ms. Hunt."

"Call me Sarah," Owen's mother replied automatically, taking the younger woman's hands into hers and squeezing it gently. She didn't believe for a second that Cristina was a mere friend, especially with the way her son was looking at her. He'd never gotten that look when he was with Beth – and he'd been ready to marry her. So caught up in trying to figure out what the situation was between Owen and this mysterious lady friend of his, it took a minute for Cristina's name to register. "Wait, did you say Cristina?" She turned to Owen with a raised eyebrow, an expression Cristina had often seen on Owen's face. "Cristina Yang? The woman with the icicle in her chest?"

"Uh, yes," Cristina replied hesitantly – surprise mixed with confusion registering on her face. She was taken aback by the fact that Owen's mother apparently knew her last name and about the incident with the icicle already. She looked at Owen with a huge question mark on her face.

Owen looked away sheepishly, and Cristina could see his cheeks starting to get a bit flushed from embarrassment. "Uh, yeah, Mom. This is her."

"Well, why didn't you say so in the first place?" she scolded Owen in an exasperated manner. As she pulled Cristina into her arms for a hug, she glared at Owen over her shoulder. Cristina's small frame seemed to be swallowed whole. "It's wonderful to finally meet you," Sarah said.

Cristina awkwardly hugged Ms. Hunt back, totally caught off guard by the warmth this woman was showing her. She and mothers didn't tend to mix well together; but apparently, she just hadn't been meeting the right ones. "It's wonderful to meet you, too, ma'am," she said when Ms. Hunt finally let her go.

"Sarah," she insisted again. Stepping away from the doorway, she gestured the two of them inside. "Please come in and take a seat. I just made some cookies for the poor child across the street who had to get stitches yesterday, and I'm sure he won't mind if a few went missing. Please sit. I'll bring out some lemonade, too." With that, Ms. Hunt disappeared into the kitchen.

Owen directed her towards the living room couch and opted to sit next to her rather than taking his usual seat in the sofa chair. His choice was for Cristina's sake as much as his own. He could tell that this was a rather uncomfortable situation for her, and he really appreciated the fact that she came inside with him.

After the initial shock wore off, Cristina spoke. "So, you told her about me. When we first met." It was less of a question and more of a statement of fact.

"Uh, yeah. My mom and I are really close. My dad left us when I was really young, so we only had each other. And I tell her everything – well, almost everything."

Cristina's admiration for his mother grew. Her father had basically been a single parent, and she could only imagine how hard it was raise a child on one's own. She cleared her throat, dispelling the tinge of sadness that always accompanied thoughts of her father. "What did you say about me?"

Owen looked deep into Cristina's eyes, still embarrassed of having been caught talking about her but needing her to see the sincerity. "I told her that I'd met this amazing woman who I could see myself with for a long, long time...possibly even forever." The last part of the sentence came out in a mumbled near-whisper, as if he were afraid to frighten her off with such a declaration.

Cristina scoffed at the thought of anyone falling in love at first sight, especially since she was not known to make the best first impressions. But more than that, she scoffed because she was afraid that it had been the same for her. "You're telling me that you knew that, from the moment you met me, you wanted to be with me for the rest of your life."

"Yes," Owen answered with complete honesty, "that's what I'm telling you."

Before Cristina could respond or protest, Sarah walked in with a tray of the refreshments. Owen immediately stood up to help her carry the items over to the coffee table before resuming his seat. Cristina noted the fact that he waited to sit after his mother had done so first – the man just screamed chivalry.

Knowing that Owen and his mother had a lot to catch up on – and that things would go easier without her present, Cristina stood up. Turning to Owen's mother, she nervously asked, "Um, please excuse me. I need to use the bathroom?"

"Last door on the left," Sarah replied, pointing Cristina in the right direction.

"Thank you," Cristina said with a polite smile. Although her stomach was full of butterflies from giving Ms. Hunt that little white lie, Cristina walked towards the bathroom as calmly as she could.

Owen knew that Cristina didn't really need to use the restroom and that she was just giving him privacy to tell his mother the truth. On the one hand, he appreciated the gesture; on the other, he wished that she'd stayed – if only to prolong the inevitable a little bit longer. But he needed to do this; and it had to be a step that he took alone. And knowing that she was close was good enough.

"Mom," Owen started after a bit of hesitation, "I need to tell you something. I haven't been completely honest with you for the past several months… I've been in Seattle for a while now… I was honorably discharged from the military." Owen couldn't look his mother in the eye; but if he had, he would have noticed the lack of surprise in her reaction.

Sarah leaned forward and placed a hand on his knees. "It's okay, Owen. I know. Beth told me."

Owen looked up immediately in shock. "What? Why didn't you say anything when I called you?" Owen felt even worse than before, finding out that his mother had let him get away with the lies. It must have killed her to not say anything.

Sarah regarded her distraught son with compassion and love, sandwiching one of his larger hands between hers and soothingly patted it. "I knew you'd tell me when you were ready. One of the mothers from your unit told me what had happened. I'm so sorry, Owen. I'm so, so sorry."

Owen was relieved that he didn't have to be the one to tell her – even though he'd made progress in therapy, it was still difficult for him to talk about what had happened on his last tour. The only person he'd told other than Dr. Wyatt was Cristina.

"It's okay, Mom. I'm in therapy now. And it's helping."

Sarah Hunt was an observant woman, and she could tell that Owen wasn't telling her the entire story. But she could see the tinge of discomfort creeping into Owen's face and didn't pursue it any further. "That's good," she replied simply, without judgment.

"But it was Cristina who actually really pushed me to see you," Owen said, knowing that his mother deserved the truth. "If it hadn't been for her, I probably wouldn't have told you for a long time. She's also the main reason I sought therapy in the first place. Mom, I … hurt her."

"What do you mean?"

"I blacked out and ended up strangling her. If her roommate hadn't woken me up when she did, I … I nearly killed her." Owen hung his head in shame.

Owen's mother hid any sign of horror from her face. She knew her son. He would _never _harm anyone intentionally, especially not the woman he was in love with – and it was clear that Owen loved this Cristina Yang. And based on the fact that Cristina had come with Owen to see her– even after the incident, Sarah could only assume that the feeling was mutual.

"It wasn't you, Owen. It wasn't your fault. And you're obviously making progress with therapy if you've come to see me. But more importantly, Cristina also believes it wasn't your fault and has clearly forgiven you."

"I really love her, Mom. She's the one. I don't ever want to hurt her again. And I'm afraid that I might."

"What does your therapist say?"

"She says that my nightmares are triggered by things that remind me of the war, like Cristina's ceiling fan. But also that they stem from my unresolved issues with the loss of my unit... I've been working on it." Owen looked into his mother's eyes – eyes that mirrored his. Sarah could see the determination in his face. "I have to get better," Owen continued. "I can't lose her. She's it for me, Mom. From the moment I met her, I knew. I just knew that I loved her. I tried to fight it, but I just couldn't stay away from her. She means everything to me, and I don't want to disappoint her."

Sarah had never heard her son talk about a woman with this much conviction before. Even when he'd been engaged to Beth, she had never heard him say anything like this. There was an unwavering certainty that underlined every word, leaving no doubts that what he said was true. Sarah just hoped that Cristina felt the same way; but judging from what she'd seen, she knew that she had nothing to worry about.

Cristina stood in the hallway, having caught the latter half of Owen's speech. She'd tried to stay in the bathroom for what she thought was a reasonable time without raising suspicions. She hadn't meant to come out so soon; but her pager had gone off while she was waiting, and she had to get back to the hospital to check up on Izzie.

Cristina backed into a hallway a bit then proceeded to walk back into the living room, clearing her throat a bit to call attention to herself so that Owen would know that she was there. Pretending that she hadn't just overheard Owen admitting his feelings for her to his mother, Cristina pasted on an apologetic smile.

"I'm so sorry, but I need to get back to the hospital. One of my patients needs me. It was wonderful to meet you, Ms. Hunt – I mean, Sarah. I'm sorry I have to leave so soon."

Owen stood up immediately, reaching into his pocket for the keys to the truck. "I'll take you back."

Cristina waved him off. "No, it's fine. I'll just call a cab or have someone pick me up. There's no need for you to cut your visit short because of me."

Owen's mother interjected, "Nonsense. He can visit me anytime. In fact, I hope you can come over for dinner with Owen sometime soon. I make a mean pot roast, and I'd love the chance to get to know you better. Please say you'll come."

Cristina couldn't say no to her, especially with the genuine affection that the woman seemed to have for her. "I'd like that," Cristina replied.

A smile of pleasured flitted across Owen's face as he gently placed a hand on Cristina's and led her towards the door. Owen's mother hugged them both, whispering in Owen's ear that she loved him and that he better bring Cristina back, before she waved them good-bye.

As they pulled away from the house, Cristina could still see Owen's mother standing in the doorway. She gave a shy wave back, one that was promptly returned by Sarah with a smile, before Owen drove headed back to the hospital.

The mood in the truck on the way back was markedly different than the mood on the way to his mother's house. Owen was no longer clutching the gearstick, and Cristina could see a slight smile on his lips – it reminded her of the Owen she'd first met, and it made her heart flutter with hope.

Owen quickly broke the silence. "Is everything okay?"

"What do you mean?" Cristina asked, having been preoccupied with Owen's smile. It really was nice to see again.

"The patient you got paged about."

"Oh," she replied. "Izzie's almost out of surgery. I'm going to spend the night at the hospital."

Owen understood. "Do you… Do you need some company?" Owen asked. He wanted to be there for her – if she'd let him.

Cristina glanced in his direction, a bit surprised at his offer though she knew that she really shouldn't be. Owen had shown time and again that he cared for her; and she hadn't forgotten the times he'd tried to comfort or support her, like when Jordan died or when she and Meredith were fighting. No, she really shouldn't be surprised; but Cristina wasn't used to such gentleness.

"No," Cristina replied softly. "Karev, O'Malley, and Meredith will be there. You should go home and sleep." Cristina spoke kindly, conveying her gratitude for his offer and not wanting him to think that she was rebuffing him.

"Okay."

They drove the rest of way in comfortable silence, each of them lost in their own thoughts and feeling the exhaustion settling in after an eventful day. As Owen pulled up towards the front of the hospital, he put the car in park and was about to unbuckle his seatbelt so that he could open Cristina's door for her when she put a hand over his to stop him.

She shook her head. "There's no need for you to get out of the truck. I can get my own door – have been for a very long time." She said that last part with a gentle smile and a slight twinkle in her eye, letting him know that she really did appreciate the gesture.

Owen conceded and let go of the buckle, leaving his seatbelt on. "Cristina, thank you for coming with me. I probably couldn't have done it without you." Owen stared at her with those clear blue eyes, so earnest that she could feel emotion well up in her throat.

She reached over and caressed the side of his face. Owen's eyes closed, reveling in her touch. "I'm glad you went to see your mom."

"Me, too… You know, what I said before… About knowing the moment I saw you… I really meant it."

Maybe it was because she'd overheard part of his conversation with his mother or maybe it was because the shadows had begun to leave his eyes, but this time she believed him. This time she didn't scoff at the absurdity of love at first sight. This time she was less resistant to the idea that she felt the same way about him.

"I know," she whispered, unable and not ready to say more.

But Owen didn't mind that she couldn't say the words just yet. He was patient – a future with Cristina was definitely worth waiting for. And he took what she could say for what it was: a glimmer of hope and a sign of them moving forward.


	29. I Love You The Slightly Edited Version

**Author's Note**: I thought I'd do a slightly edited version of Cristina's "I love you" speech from the season finale since a few people were not completely satisfied by it. And a special thank you to HopeCrowe for beta-reading it, and to the lovely ladies of a certain FB group for their suggestions!

**Dedication**: To EmmaHolt who specifically requested this. I hope you like it!

* * *

"**I Love You": The Slightly Edited Version**

Cristina sat on the large concrete base in the vent room, thinking about what Meredith had said earlier: saying those three little words to those that you loved. Cristina did not talk about her feelings – it was not one of her fortes, and she really didn't see the point. She was more of a doer, believing that actions spoke louder than words. But today, Meredith had made her rethink that belief. As she had watched Alex tirelessly working with Izzie to help her regain her memory, she had realized just how important it was to say the words sometimes – when the gestures couldn't take their place.

She had pretty much already told Owen that she loved him when she'd said, "Take care now." But it wasn't the same.

Cristina thrived on being the best – on being first. But she had _never_ been the first to make leaps in relationships. She wasn't good at relationships – Burke had taught her that. But she'd been comforted in the fact that she was the best surgeon among her peers; so it was okay that her personal life was a bit lacking. With Owen, however, she couldn't accept not being good. Because as Campbell had pointed out, surgery didn't last forever – nor would it ever love you back.

Owen loved her back – he had told her without ever uttering the words. And he'd be around when surgery wasn't. Forty years, he'd promised – before that terrible night had happened – but she even so, she could see that he still intended to keep it. He wanted to be a better man for her – he wanted to be a better man _with _her. No one had ever said that to her before. Not even Burke – in fact, with Burke, she'd often felt like _she_ had to be better for _him_. It was odd and frightening being in the opposite role.

She wished that Owen could just read her mind because she didn't know if she could ever say those words out loud – to his face and while he was awake. It was so much easier to say when the other person was sleeping: you didn't have to worry about seeing their reaction. But she had to tell him. She had to tell him because it would show that she had thought about what he'd said, and she had decided that she wanted to move forward – even though the thought of moving forward scared the hell out of her. Did she really want to risk getting hurt again?

Before Cristina could answer that question, the door to the boiler room opened. Owen barged through the entrance and came to an abrupt stop when he saw Cristina sitting there.

"I'm sorry. I didn't realize that you were…" he said, starting to back out and leave her to her privacy.

"Wait," Cristina quickly interjected. Owen turned towards her, entered the room, and let the heavy door clang shut behind him as he watched Cristina stand up to face him. He looked at her with a quizzical expression on his face, a bit clueless as to what she wanted to say to him.

He had come down to the vent to clear his mind about O'Malley joining the military and Bailey and the others getting upset over it. He hadn't realized that such a decision would ignite their anger. It hadn't even been him that had convinced O'Malley to go – yes, he'd taught O'Malley how to be a good trauma surgeon; but it never been about getting the younger man to follow Owen's footsteps and enlisting. He'd seen his potential and had strived to make him better – that was all. No strings attached. Of course he was proud of the decision O'Malley made – how could he not? The military had given him the type of training no civilian hospital ever could, and he wouldn't be the surgeon he was today without it. And though he really shouldn't care what other people thought of him, he cared about O'Malley. If his friends really thought that the military would be too difficult for him, then he would have a serious discussion with O'Malley to better prepare him for what he would see overseas. He wouldn't try to talk him out of it – he was a grown man who could make his own decisions. And he would never do so – no matter how much Bailey yelled at him. But, Owen wouldn't wish his demons on anyone – it had nearly destroyed the woman he loved, and he was still dealing with the repercussions. So, he'd do what he could to make the transition easier.

Owen now watched as the woman he loved grappled with finding her voice. It would just make his day even worse if she was trying to find a way to let him down easy – if she'd decided that she wasn't interested in him being a better man with her. But Owen refused to give up hope as he patiently waited for Cristina to speak.

"I love…" Cristina started.

Owen's heart started racing, anticipating the next word. It was as though everything depended on the next word.

"…you." Cristina finished, acting as if saying the words had taken a huge amount of physical exertion.

For a moment, Owen was too shocked to speak or move. Sure, she'd kissed him back this morning and had come with him to see his mom; but it had been just a couple days ago when she'd rejected his touch and walked away. Realizing that he still hadn't responded, Owen moved forward – whether to pick her up in his arms and celebrate or to kiss her senseless, he didn't know. All he knew was that he needed to close the distance between them – metaphorically and literally – and show her how happy she'd just made him, even if her delivery of the words was a bit confusing.

Those three little words swelled up within him; and he was about to say them when Cristina stopped him in his tracks with a wave of her hand.

"No," she said. She feared that if he interrupted her now, she would never get the words out. "I love you," she repeated, this time as though she were stating a fact. Owen waited patiently for her to continue. He loved hearing the words coming from her mouth and was chomping at the bit to say them back and just hold her. But now was her moment, and he'd respect it.

"I said… I said, 'I love you.'" Cristina spoke more to herself than to him, as though she couldn't believe it. She looked up at Owen, trying to convey to him just how mind-boggling and uncharacteristic it was for her to say such things. He stared back at her, not completely following her. "Me. Cristina Yang," she said, incredulity lacing every word.

Owen blinked at her, which served to frustrate Cristina even more. It wasn't his fault that he didn't understand the gravity of the situation – he didn't know about Burke or the way she was before she'd met him. He'd changed her, and he hadn't even realized it.

Cristina started pacing back and forth, trying to figure out how to convey the enormity of what she was feeling and just how hard it was for her to say it. Pointing an accusatory finger at him, she finally spoke. "You traumatize me," she said, continuing to pace.

Owen felt like he got kicked in the stomach. "I know that I am… I'm so sorry about…" Owen hung his head in shame. He would never be able to forgive himself of that – it didn't matter to him that he'd been asleep.

Cristina quickly interrupted. "No, damn it, not about the choking…" It had been a poor choice of words, but what she said was true. He had traumatized her – just not in the way he thought. She continued, "It's like… It's like you come here and then you pull out my icicle. And you make me love you. And I can't, I mean, I don't want to. I – I can't _breathe_… without you."

Cristina stared at the floor, surprised at herself over what she'd said. Who said things like that? Probably McDreamy, with his perfect hair and grand gestures of gushy romance of flower petals and candles. Certainly not her – she was _not_ the romance type. But she did – she'd said it, and it hadn't killed her. Saying it had in fact made it easier for her to breathe – it was a ridiculous thought, but it was true. The pressure that'd been weighing on her chest was gone. She was no longer holding things in.

Owen had been smiling with subtle amusement over Cristina's little tirade. But now, his features softened, having finally comprehended the full extent of what Cristina had done for him. She'd said the words, though it had been a torturous act for her to do so. And he was deeply grateful that she had made that step on her own.

Owen moved towards her, wanting to grasp this opportunity and encourage her to believe in them as he did. "You can do this. Cristina, _we _can do this. All you have to do is just meet me halfway. All you have to do is say 'yes.'" Cristina finally looked up and met his gaze.

It was simple enough. All he asked was one more word from her – one word that would change their lives forever. So, maybe it wasn't that simple; but he'd leave the decision to her.

"All you have to do is say 'yes,'" Owen repeated softly, silently hoping that she would.

And though he should do the gentlemanly thing and leave her to think on her own, Owen couldn't resist drawing closer and tenderly holding her by the waist for a brief moment. It didn't matter that her arms remained at her sides. He was sure that she was still processing what had just happened. He understood that he was asking a lot of her, what with this morning at the bridge and now. So, it was more for him – because she'd said that she loved him, and he couldn't just pretend that it didn't happen.

He put his mouth close to her ear, using one hand to gently move her hair out of the way. As his fingers caressed the silky smooth curls, he whispered, "I love you, too, Cristina Yang," before letting go of her. With one last look back, he quietly left the boiler room.

Watching Owen leave, Cristina's lips lifted ever so slightly at the corners in a blink-and-you'll-miss-it smile. The man certainly knew how to play dirty: first by kissing her and now by telling her that he loved her. Yes, he was a sneaky one. And damn it, it was working.


	30. Mama Rubenstein Returns

**Author's Note**: Since the Mama Rubenstein two-parter was such a success, I thought I would bring her back. This will follow the previously set-up storyline from those two chapters; so, if you haven't read them, I recommend that you do. And as such, it is a bit AU (started well before "Elevator Love Letter," so no sleeping issues). Anyways, hope you guys enjoy this latest installment! (And as always, please leave some feedback!)

**Important Notice**: This will be the final installment in this series because I feel like it's getting too long. So, from now on, I will release stories individually rather than chapters. Hope you enjoyed the series!

* * *

**Mama Rubenstein Returns**

Owen was carrying in the last box of his things when Cristina stopped him in his tracks. She had a look of terror on her face as she clutched her cell phone tightly in her fist, knuckles stark white. Owen instantly dropped the box on the floor and placed his hands on either side of her, worried.

"Cristina, what's wrong?" Owen asked, concern emanating from his tone. "Who was on the phone?"

"My mother… She's coming to visit," Cristina whispered, as if saying it softly would make it untrue. She remembered the last time she'd visited and nearly destroyed her budding relationship with Owen.

Owen watched the array of emotions dance across Cristina's face as she bit her lip in deep concentration. He looked at her with amusement, relieved that it was nothing serious. He had thought that Mrs. Rubenstein – or, Helen, as he remembered her insisting – was one very interesting woman. Although he didn't appreciate the fact that she had brought another man to the dinner, he couldn't really blame her since she had had no idea that he was coming – or that he even existed. In a weird way, he liked Helen Rubenstein. It was probably because he could see where a lot of Cristina's spunk came from, minus the meddling and the inability to keep secrets.

"We have to break up," Cristina finally said, interrupting Owen's thoughts and jerking him back to reality.

"What?" Owen asked, confused. He had apparently missed something. Here he was, just about to move in with her, and she suddenly wanted to break up? Yes, he was definitely missing something.

"We have to break up," Cristina repeated, as if it made perfect sense. Before Owen could question her or protest, she went on. "Not _really_ break up, but at least pretend to break up. In fact, you're going to take out all your stuff. We can't let my mother see that you're moving in. That's just asking for trouble."

Owen was still not following her logic, and his puzzled facial expression said as much. Cristina gave him a look of exasperation as he stood there, unmoving. "Well? Come on. We have to load your stuff back into the truck."

Owen stared at her as if she were insane. The woman had some serious mommy issues: highly stressful surgeries didn't even faze her, but the mere mention of her mother coming in town sent her into a frenzy.

Having decided that she was no longer capable of thinking rationally, Owen soothingly ran his hands up and down her arms and talked to her in the tone that one would use to calm a frightened animal. "Cristina, I'm not breaking up with you – pretend or otherwise. And I'm not going to reload all my stuff in the truck. Plus, where would I go? The landlord has already rented out my apartment, remember?" When Cristina looked like she was about to say something, he quickly continued. "I am _not_ going to book a hotel room just so you don't have to tell your mother that we've moved in together or that we're still dating."

They'd been together for over six months now – a bit soon for moving in for most couples. But with them, it had seemed like the natural next step – which was why Cristina had immediately asked Owen to move in with her after Callie had gone to live with Arizona. She reasoned that they spent most of their time at her place anyways – her apartment being so close to the hospital and all – so it wasn't much of a transition. In fact, Owen had pretty much moved in with her a while ago, having left more and more of his belongings in her apartment whenever he stayed over.

"Ugh," Cristina finally groaned, resigned to the fact that Owen wouldn't budge on the matter. "Fine, we need to pick her up from the airport in four hours."

"What?" Owen asked, not believing he'd heard right.

"Yeah, my mother's not huge on giving warnings either. I think she knows that I'd try to get out of seeing her. Ugh, I can't believe we have to spend our weekend off with my mother. I swear she has ESP or something." Cristina let out a huge sigh and plopped onto the futon that Owen had brought over from his apartment, her arm coming up to cover her eyes in frustration.

"Uh," Owen replied, "I don't think it'd be appropriate to pick up your mother in my truck."

"Why not?"

"Your mother doesn't seem like the truck type to me."

"Fine, we'll stop by Meredith's first and get her car," Cristina groaned, arm coming down briefly to look at him. "I just hope it's big enough for all of my mother's crap," she muttered to herself, resuming her posture of resignation.

"How long is she staying?"

"Just this weekend. But trust me. My mother will have enough suitcases to last a month."

Having met Helen, Owen didn't have any trouble believing her. "Come on," he said, walking over to stand in front of Cristina, "we've got some time to kill."

Cristina's interest was piqued and sat up. With an eyebrow raised suggestively, she asked, "Are you thinking what I'm thinking?"

"If by that you mean unpacking my stuff, then yes."

"Seriously?" Cristina replied. "You'd rather unpack boxes than get a piece of this?" To emphasize her point, Cristina struck a seductive pose, playing with her hair and running her tongue across her lips.

Owen cleared his throat as desire hit him instantly. He was tempted – very tempted – to take her up on her offer, but he resisted. Purposely adverting his gaze and conjuring up the dependably libido-killing thought of his grandmother, he answered, "Uh, no. I just think we should save the celebration of my moving in until _after _I've actually moved in." Plus, Owen had the feeling that Helen would be able to tell exactly what they'd been up to. Mothers could just sense that sort of thing.

"Ugh," Cristina groaned again. "Fine. But you better make it up to me," she said as she reluctantly got up from the couch and leaned down to grab a box. "I'm talking about mind-blowing sex that's so good that I'll forget my mother's here."

"Don't worry," Owen whispered in her ear as he came up behind her, nuzzling her neck. An involuntary shiver went down her spine. "I fully intend to inaugurate _our _apartment."

***

Three and a half hours, twelve boxes, and one quick stop at Meredith's later, Owen and Cristina drove towards the airport in Meredith's station wagon. Owen noted that it still wasn't the vehicle of choice for picking up Helen Rubenstein, but at least it had a proper backseat.

Cristina sat beside him, fidgeting in the passenger seat as they drew closer to the airport. Owen could hear her muttering "oh crap" over and over again to herself. He had honestly never seen someone so afraid of seeing their mother, especially since she seemed to be completely fine with his mom.

As they entered the pick-up zone of the domestic arrivals area, Owen scanned the handful of people waiting.

"Do you see her?" Owen asked, figuring that Cristina would be better at recognizing her mother.

"Uh… Right there… Next to those two guys pushing her luggage. Crap, I hope everything will fit."

Owen followed Cristina's finger, and his gaze fell upon two clearly exhausted airport attendants and the familiar figure of Helen Rubenstein chatting away on her phone, oblivious to the looks of exasperation that were being directed at her. He pulled up to an empty space along the curb next to them.

"Mom," Cristina said, lowering the window enough to poke her hand out and catch her mother's attention.

Owen heard a muted "I'll call you later, dear" before Helen approached the car with the two airport employees in tow. Both Cristina and Owen got out of the car – Cristina to do the daughterly thing of hugging her mother and Owen to start getting Helen's pile of stuff into the car.

"Owen, what a nice surprise," Helen said. "I see that you haven't been frightened away," she remarked with a smile, referring to their last conversation they'd had. Indeed, she truly was a bit surprised that Cristina had managed to hang onto such a charming man. She loved her daughter, but she knew that charm was amongst Cristina's repertoire of qualities.

"No, ma'am, I haven't," Owen replied with a genial smile.

Cristina simply rolled her eyes and went to the closest luggage cart. Grasping the handle of a smaller bag, she let out a surprised "ooph" of exertion when she could barely budge it.

"Holy crap, what's in this thing?" she asked.

Helen tsked at her. "Cristina, language." She gave the men an apologetic look, as though to excuse her daughter's crassness. "Just a few trinkets I picked up on my last trip to Europe."

"What did you do? Buy out the entire store?" Cristina asked incredulously as Owen relieved her of the bag. "Why did you bring it here?"

"I thought your apartment and wardrobe could use some improvements. Which is why I also bought you some lovely outfits as well," she said, gesturing to the other suitcases that were currently being loaded into the car by Owen.

Cristina doubted that her mother's idea of "lovely" matched hers. "Seriously, you didn't have to do that." Though what she really wanted to say was, "_Don't_ do that."

"I know I didn't have to, but you're so busy at the hospital. If it weren't for me, you'd probably only wear jeans and that awful leather jacket of yours." Helen gave a pointed look at Cristina's signature jacket that she was currently wearing. Cristina looked down, not seeing why her mother had such issues with it. "Or worse – scrubs. Really, Cristina, you look like you belong to a motorcycle gang."

Having become immune to her mother's penchant for exaggerations, Cristina ignored her mother's comments about the way she dressed. "So, which hotel are you staying at?"

Owen, having finally gotten everything into the car with the other men's help, came to stand by Cristina's side. He had left just enough room in the backseat for one person – Cristina – to fit in. Everything was stacked on top of each other so that Owen would only have a sliver of visibility in his rearview mirror when he drove.

"No hotel," Helen answered matter-of-factly, "I'm staying with you."

"What?" Cristina and Owen both asked at the same.

"I'm staying with you," Helen repeated. "Didn't I tell you over the phone? I swear I said it. Your roommate did move out after all. And why else would I have brought you stuff for your apartment? I don't trust you to decorate your place yourself. Knowing you, you'd just shove everything I bought you in the back of your closet." Cristina remained speechless, feeling signs of her earlier panic attack coming on again. "Well? Shall we go back to your apartment?" Helen continued. "It's been an exhausting day, and I need my beauty sleep." She gave Owen a wink.

Owen automatically opened the passenger door for her and helped Helen in. When he went to do the same for Cristina, he whispered into her ear, "I think now would be a good time to tell your mom that you have a new roommate."

Cristina nodded silently as she got in the car. Owen quickly got into the driver's seat and started heading back towards Cristina's apartment.

"Uh, mom," Cristina began, "about my apartment…"

"Yes, what about it?"

"Don't you think you'd be more comfortable in a hotel? I don't have any real food. And I'm so close to the hospital that you won't be able to sleep with the sound of the sirens."

"Cristina, why are you so against me staying with you? You're going to make Owen think that you don't want me here."

_I don't_, Cristina thought to herself. But instead, she said, "It's not that. I just think that you would like it better in some fancy hotel." She caught Owen's eyes in the rearview mirror, glaring at him to say something to persuade her mother to stay somewhere else for the weekend. It was only two days – but that was two days too many.

Owen remained silent, preferring that Cristina tell her mother the truth. Even though he wasn't exactly looking forward to having to sleep on the pull-out bed, he didn't want to condone Cristina's lying by omission either. Plus, he wanted Helen to know that things between him and her daughter were serious – that he was planning on sticking around for as long as Cristina wanted him.

Realizing that she wouldn't get any help from Owen, she shot him an annoyed look. With a huge sigh of resignation, she quickly said, "Owenmovedinwithme."

"Don't mumble, Cristina," her mother responded.

"I said, 'Owen … moved in with me," she repeated, letting the last few words trail off into a mere whisper.

Helen still couldn't understand what Cristina had said. She turned in her seat to look at Cristina. "What did you say about Owen?"

Taking pity on Cristina and satisfied with her attempts – albeit rather pathetic attempts at that – to tell her mother the truth, Owen chimed in. "I've moved in with your daughter, ma'am."

Helen quickly turned back to look at him, a delighted smile at her lips. First step: moving in together. Next step: a wedding. And oh how Helen yearned to plan a wedding – a wedding where Cristina actually walked down the aisle and got married.

"You're a brave man," Helen remarked.

"Excuse me?"

"I did warn you that she is a very messy girl."

Owen laughed while Cristina sulked in the backseat. "She's gotten better. I think Torres – sorry, Callie – rubbed off on her."

Helen scoffed, not trusting Owen's judgment. "Well, I'll have to see for myself." Then, in a turnabout of emotion, she played with the string of pearls around her neck and asked sweetly, "You don't mind, do you, Owen?"

"Not at all," Owen said with a smile. Unfortunately, this meant that he'd have to postpone the fulfillment of the promise he'd given Cristina earlier.

Cristina gave the back of his seat a slight kick in a juvenile response to his brownnosing. Helen didn't notice.

"Wonderful. Now excuse me, I have to let Saul know that I got here safe and sound," Helen replied, getting out her PalmPilot and texting furiously. _And tell my friends that Cristina's good-looking army surgeon has moved in._

***

"I am going to kill that woman," Cristina panted as she heaved a Louis Vuitton carry-on bag up the stairs.

Helen, being her typical self, was sitting idly on the couch as Owen and Cristina brought up her stuff. Helen Rubenstein of Beverly Hills did not carry her own luggage.

"Cristina," Owen admonished, slightly out of breath himself as he lifted two sizeable suitcases.

"What? First, she comes here unannounced. Second, we are going to have to share the couch because I _refuse_ to sleep in the same bed with her. Third, I'm going to have to put up with a bunch of crap I don't need. And last but _definitely_ not least, I'm not getting laid tonight." Cristina nearly screamed the last part in frustration, causing Owen to glance around to make sure that no one was listening.

"She's your mother, Cristina."

"Well, I don't _do _mothers."

"You seemed to get along just fine with my mom."

"Your mom's different. She's sane. And she doesn't meddle or gossip to her friends about her daughter's new boyfriend. You know that's what she's doing right now, right?"

Owen chuckled. He wouldn't put it past Helen to do so – she certainly seemed the type. And she seemed to like him, so it could only be a good thing.

As they reached the front of the apartment door, Owen's pager went off. Depositing the suitcases inside the door, he glanced at the screen. "I've got to go. The hospital needs me."

"Leaving so soon?" Helen asked, hearing him.

"Sorry, it's an emergency. I need to get back to the ER. I'll be back as soon as I can to help you settle in."

Cristina was silently pleading with him to not leave her alone with her mother; but Owen just simply pecked her on the lips, gave Helen a polite nod, and headed out the door.

Cristina glared at her boyfriend's retreating back for a moment before pasting on a less hostile expression – she couldn't quite manage a smile – on her face.

"Well, I'll leave you to your nap," Cristina said as she turned to face her mother.

"What nap?"

"I thought you said you needed your beauty sleep?"

"Don't feel tired anymore."

"What? Owen leaving miraculously rejuvenated you?"

"Sarcasm doesn't suit you, Cristina." Helen raised an eyebrow, giving her daughter a look that was all too familiar.

"_You _don't suit me," Cristina muttered under her breath.

"Well, don't just stand there, Cristina. Help me unpack all this stuff. It is for _your _apartment after all," Helen said breezily as she went around the rooms to explore the space with the eyes of an amateur interior decorator.

"I'm just going to have to take it down after you leave," Cristina grumbled to herself as she obeyed her mother's orders. "I'm going to kill her. I'm really going to kill her," she ranted under her breath and she bent down to unzip the bulging suitcases. "I seriously need to stop talking to myself. I'm starting to sound like I'm a crazy person."

"What's taking you so long?" Helen asked, coming out of the bedroom, where she'd snuck a peek into Owen's things. He was certainly a very neat man. She liked that. In fact, she was pretty sure that Owen had tidied up some of Cristina's things as well. There was no way that all of Cristina's clothes had miraculously hung themselves inside the closet or folded themselves into the drawers.

"How did the airport let you bring all this onto the plane?" Cristina asked, once again hit with the ridiculous amount of stuff her mother had brought with her. "I thought they had weight limits."

Cristina's mother gave a careless wave of her hand. "Oh, they do. I paid those silly little fines. I'm sure Saul won't mind. I just _had _to bring these to you for your apartment." Helen meandered her way towards an already-opened suitcase. "Look here," she said, lifting out a fragile item that was completely wrapped in paper. She gently removed the outer covering to reveal a miniature replica of the famous statue of Venus de Milo.

"Isn't it gorgeous?" Helen said, almost reverently.

"Uh, it's a woman with no arms. Why do I need some naked woman with no arms in my apartment? This apartment has already seen plenty of naked women _with _arms."

Helen chose to ignore the latter comment and glared at her culturally unrefined daughter who had no appreciation for art. "It adds character, and your guests will see that you have good taste when you entertain them."

"I don't entertain."

Helen shook her head. As she had many times before, she wondered just how her daughter had turned out to be so different than her.

For the next several hours, Helen kept her word and proceeded to give Cristina's apartment a total makeover – the kind that one washed off the moment they got home, except the damage her mother had done to her apartment wouldn't go away with a splash of water. Resigned to the fact that her mother was on a warpath that couldn't be stopped, Cristina blocked out her mother's voice and concentrated on unpacking the various items from her mother's suitcases. As she completed the menial task, she brainstormed all the ways she'd torture Owen when he got back – served him right for leaving her here alone.

Just as her imagination turned towards thoughts of possible dismemberment, Cristina heard the jingle of keys at the door. Immediately dropping what was in her hand – a ceramic plate that really had no business being in her apartment – she rushed to open the door.

"Save me," Cristina begged, causing Owen to laugh. Owen retrieved his keys from the lock and leaned in to kiss her frown away. All plans of dismemberment flew from her mind, and Cristina even managed a hum of pleasure.

"Oh, Owen, you're back. Wonderful. What do you think?" Helen asked, gesturing towards the room as though she were Vanna White revealing the next letter.

"Uh…it looks fantastic, ma'am." Though internally, Owen was rather horrified over the huge upheaval of the apartment that had become his home. The place looked more like a showroom or a miniature art museum than a habitable space. Owen was afraid to even put his bag down for fear of ruining the aesthetic. No wonder Cristina had looked like she was about to blow a fuse when he first got home.

Oblivious to Owen's hesitation and outright lie, Helen beamed at him. "It sure is, isn't it?" she replied, proving that one does only really see – or hear – what they want to hear.

Cristina feigned sticking a finger down her throat, purposely hiding the motion from her mother's line of sight. Owen stifled a snort, quickly recovering to inquire, "Is there anything you need me to help you with?"

"Hmm…" Helen responded, looking around the room with a critical eye. "No, I think we're done."

"Finally," Cristina muttered under her breath.

Catching a glimpse of the clock, Helen let out a surprised gasp. "Oh, it's so late already. Time does seem to fly when you're having fun. I better call Saul and head off to bed. All this decorating has tired me out."

Owen kept a restraining hand on Cristina to keep her from making some comment to the effect of, "Decorating has tired _you_ out? All you did was point fingers as things." He read her so well.

"Goodnight, Helen."

Helen bade them goodnight and headed towards Cristina's bedroom, where a nice comfy bed laid waiting.

"One day, Owen, I'm going to stab that woman with a scalpel," Cristina finally said when Helen was out of earshot.

"Uh huh… So, you ready for bed?" Owen asked, wrapping his arm around Cristina's waist and garnering a chuckle out of Cristina.

"Ready when you are," Cristina said huskily, letting her hand drift down his chest and towards more exciting parts.

"Cristina…wait. Your mother is in the next room. I am _not _making love to you when your mother can just walk out any second."

"Ugh, seriously? I'm a grown woman. I have sex. I _love _sex. I want sex. Right now."

Owen placed a finger on her bowed lips and snuck a glance towards the bedroom door. He could feel his cheeks flush in embarrassment. Cristina's lips curved under his fingers and her tongue darted out and licked his finger just for fun – and to rile him up.

Owen quickly drew his hand back. Yes, the woman was truly the devil in disguise, tempting him in every which way. "Soon, Cristina. I promise. And I keep my promises."

The sex-hungry woman finally gave in with a lamenting groan. "Ugh, fine. Let's go to bed…and _cuddle_." She emphasized the last word with disgust, though in all honesty, she had reached a point where she couldn't sleep without his arms wrapped around her.

Thankfully, Cristina had had the foresight to leave out a pile of Owen's clothing so that she wouldn't have to go into the bedroom where her mother was now snoring like a hibernating bear.

While Owen went about converting the futon into a bed and shaking out the comforters, Cristina got out of her street clothes – taking her time in one last attempt to change Owen's mind about the sex thing but to no avail since the man had smartly decided to avert his gaze – and slipped into one of Owen's T-shirts. Although fitted on Owen's muscular frame, the shirt nearly engulfed Cristina's significantly smaller one, coming down to mid-thigh. She quickly ducked under the covers to escape the chill. It also allowed her to have the chance to ogle Owen as he stripped down to his boxer briefs before he snuggled up next to her in bed. He fluffed his pillow and adjusted his body to the foreign feel of the sofa bed. In all the times that he had slept over, he had never once slept on the couch.

With their legs entwined and Cristina's body firmly anchored against Owen's, the two lovebirds drifted off to sleep after an exhausting day.

***

The smell of cinnamon toast and bacon wafted into Cristina's semi-conscious state. "Mmm…" She could almost taste it. It reminded her of when Callie used to make breakfast for the four of them. But now that Callie was gone, Owen had apparently taken over kitchen duty – which was just fine with her. It sure beat eating cold cereal every morning.

"Is that bacon for you or Cristina?" Cristina heard her mother say.

"Cristina."

"Hmmm…" Cristina could tell that she was trying her hardest not to say something.

"Here's your grapefruit," Owen interjected before Helen could make some insulting remark about her daughter's diet. "Please excuse me. I'd better wake up your daughter before her breakfast gets cold."

Cristina could hear Owen's bare feet pad across the floor towards her. Within seconds, she felt her body lurch towards one side as his weight caused the springs to squeak.

Owen brushed aside Cristina's hair and kissed her on the forehead. Then, he leaned close to her ear and whispered, "Stop pretending to be asleep and eat your breakfast. Your mother is catching an earlier flight. Apparently, Saul has to go to New York for a conference and your mother just _has _to do some shopping there."

_Thank you, Saul_, Cristina thought to herself. Finally opening her eyes, she saw that Owen had put on a Harvard T-shirt and a pair of jeans. She stretched out her arms and let out a big yawn before getting up. Shooting her mother a garbled greeting, she headed through her bedroom to brush her teeth and get a change of clothes. Five minutes later, she came out in a similar outfit as Owen's – except she had on a blue Cal shirt instead of a maroon Harvard one – and sat down on one of the stools and joined the other two for breakfast.

***

"I'm sorry that I couldn't stay longer," Helen said as they were driving her back to the airport, though all parties were far from being disappointed at having this visit cut short – and they all knew it.

"It's okay, Helen. You can come visit us anytime," Owen replied.

Cristina glared at him from the back seat. Her mother was certainly _not _welcome to visit them anytime. At least, not by Cristina. If Owen wanted her mother to come visit, then he could see her all by himself.

"Thank you, Owen." Cristina knew that the only reason her mother didn't turn around to give Cristina a pointed look for not saying the same was because her mother was easily carsick. Thank goodness for small favors.

Soon, Owen pulled their vehicle towards the curb near the domestic departure area. Now that the number of suitcases was down to two, Owen was able to help Helen by himself. Cristina was given the job of watching the car as Owen helped her mother place the luggage on a cart and wheel it towards the door – a job that suited her just fine.

Having moved to the passenger seat, Cristina could see that Owen and Helen had stopped near the entrance and were talking. She didn't have any idea what the two of them could be talking about. And as long as it didn't involve scheduling another visit, she really didn't care. Knowing Owen, he was probably humoring her mother out of politeness. Always the gentleman.

However, her curiosity was piqued when Helen suddenly let out a short shriek and hugged Owen. _Crap_, Cristina thought, _Owen probably just invited my mother to Thanksgiving dinner with his mother._

What followed was even more confusing. Cristina's brows furrowed as she heard her mother speaking in a shrill voice. Either she was saying, "Of course, you have my best" or "Of course, you're a blessing." Neither made sense. Straining to hear Owen's response as to get some clue as to what they were talking about, Cristina finally gave up and sat back in her seat when all she heard was Owen chuckling. She'd just ask him when he got back. It wasn't long before Owen bent down to hug Helen again and headed back towards the car with a wide grin on his face.

"What was that all about?" Cristina asked as Owen opened his door and got back in the car.

"What was _what _about?" As if he didn't know.

"That." Cristina gestured towards where he and her mother had been standing only moments ago.

"Oh. Helen's just excited that she'll be meeting my mother soon."

"Ugh. I knew it."

The hand that was buckling the seatbelt paused midway. "Knew what?"

"I just _knew _that you invited my mother to Thanksgiving dinner at Sarah's."

Owen breathed an inaudible sigh of relief. She didn't know. "Uh, yeah. Sorry. But we're going to have a family Thanksgiving dinner. One big happy family."

"Crap," Cristina moaned, resigning herself to having to see her mother again. Once a year was enough. In fact, it was often _more _than enough.

Owen smiled. If he played his cards right, by Thanksgiving, they really would be one big happy _family_.


End file.
